The Unfortunate Pumpkin Pie Nudity Incident
by LizaCameron
Summary: The week before Thanksgiving Emma Swan finds herself in need of a roommate, however she never bargained for what's about to walk through her door. A Captain Swan modern AU with comedic situations, a smidge of angst and holiday fluff.
1. Chapter 1

**Notes:** This was originally written for Fall For CS, but I didn't quite make the deadline. Thanks to Rouhn the generous artist who has allowed me to use the wonderful art she created (on Tumblr), and to my dear friend Shelley who agreed to beta. Thank you for always making it better.

xXx

"Thanks, we'll let you know." Emma opened the door for the departing woman, a fake smile plastered on her face. She tried not to choke on the cloud of patchouli oil that engulfed her as the woman passed. As soon as Emma shut the door on the chilly autumn air, she added softly, "Don't call us we'll call you."

Mary Margaret looked hopefully at Emma. "She was… nice. She'd make a good roommate."

Emma grimaced and waved her hand in front of her face as if to clear the woman's strong scent. "I can't live with this smell- I think you better light one of your pumpkin-whatever-spice candles to get rid of it- plus she asked about a space where she could practice her chanting. I'm not living with a smelly… chanter," Emma's voice didn't invite opposition. The smelly chanter had been the fourth person they'd interviewed that day, and despite the chanting and the patchouli, probably the most suitable. The first candidate had been a chain smoker, which made her a different, but wholly unacceptable kind of smelly. The second candidate owned a snake and Emma was not about living with any slithering creatures, and the third candidate had potential, but she had only needed a place for three months, and Emma did not want to go through this again in three months.

The last thing she wanted to do was find a new roommate. Well, the second to last thing. The last thing she wanted to do was give up the loft, but she couldn't quite afford the spacious two-bedroom on her own, thus the necessity of a roommate. To be accurate, she could technically afford it on her Storybrooke Sheriff Deputy salary, however she had spent the last year saving up in order to attend Storybrooke University and finish her bachelor's degree. Her classes were scheduled to start in January, so right now every penny counted.

Emma groaned when she saw that Mary Margaret had taken her up on her joking suggestion and was currently lighting the candle that sat on the coffee table… and the one on the kitchen table. Emma looked around at the abundance, at least to her, of seasonal decorations, all of it Mary Margaret's doing. There was a wreath of berries, in all shades of orange, above the fireplace, a colorful fake leaf garland on the mantle below it, as well as some sort of real tiny pumpkins and gourds on the kitchen table, kitchen counter and assorted other tabletops. She'd never lived with anyone who decorated like Mary Margaret, and, though, she had yet to admit it to Mary Margaret, she didn't hate it.

"This is all your fault," Emma said resolutely.

At that, Mary Margaret looked up from lighting her third seasonally-scented candle. Her eyes had gone wide, as a look of worry stole across her face.

"If you hadn't taken me in all those months ago," Emma continued now with humor in her voice, "I wouldn't know how much I liked this place. I'd be quite content in some one-room hovel on the bad side of town."

"This is Storybrooke, there is no bad side of town," Mary Margaret replied automatically, and then with a note of sympathy added, "I don't need to go, Emma. I could wait until after the wedding to move."

"Absolutely not." Emma replied firmly. "I was teasing. You and David belong together now, you were made for that little farm house of his, there is no reason to wait six months on my account, and I'm so grateful to both of you, and not just because you're letting me sublet this place." At that, Emma felt an unexpected bit of heat rise behind her eyes and as cover, busied herself with the stack of applications the owner of the building, Gold's Property Management, had sent over.

Emma rarely did emotions, and until just a year ago when David Nolan had given her a job and then introduced her to his then girlfriend, now fiancé, she'd never really done friends, or relationships or really anything that had to do with forming connections with other humans. Emma's life had not been easy. Her childhood spent in and out of foster homes, her adolescence spent in and out of group homes, her late teens spent partly in juvenile detention. A long story that one. However, she'd persevered. She'd turned things around and made a life for herself as a bail bonds person in the city and she'd done it all on her own. Grudgingly, over the last year, she'd also learned it was nice to have people. Mary Margaret was only moving a few miles away, and she knew she'd still see her, and she'd see David at work almost every day, but it still felt like she was losing something important.

Emma glanced down at the stack of applications in her hands. "We'll find someone," she said and then let out an involuntary sigh.

Mary Margaret eyed her suspiciously. "That was an awfully big sigh, is there anything else wrong?"

"No," Emma replied quickly. "Nothing."

"Emma…"

Emma knew if she admitted that she was feeling a bit blue at the prospect of Mary Margaret moving out her friend would never leave, instead she smiled widely, and her voice took on a teasing lilt. "It's just that I moved in here last January after all your holiday decorations were down. If this is what you do for fall, I was hoping to see the Mary Margaret Christmas extravaganza I've heard so much about."

"You will!" Mary Margaret exclaimed, as her face lit up like a Christmas tree. "You'll come to the farm all the time. Next week for Thanksgiving, though we won't have the decorations up yet, and then we'll have a party in mid-December, and you'll definitely join us on Christmas and basically any other time you want to come over, you're welcome." Emma smiled fondly at her, but also immediately regretted bringing up the holidays. Truth be told Emma didn't really do… any of it. She preferred to hunker down and ignore it until it was over. "Oh, and I'll leave you some decorations. I have more than I ever put up, we'll make this place super Christmasy, you won't even recognize it."

Now Emma was really regretting bringing it up, so instead of agreeing she turned her attention back to the task at hand, choosing a person to share her living space. It had taken her 28 years to find Mary Margaret; she was never going to luck into finding someone she could live with and wanted to be friends with again. Therefore, she was treating the living situation as a pure matter of convenience, seeking someone who could pay a share of the bills and would stay out of her way. However, she was going to stand firm on no smoking, no pets – especially snakes, and no chanting.

"So, who's next?" Mary Margaret asked, nodding to the stack of papers in Emma's hands.

"Last one," Emma replied, then looked at her soon to be ex-roommate and waved the discarded applications at her. "Who knew there were so many people who would be unsuitable to live with in this town?"

"Maybe she's the one." Mary Margaret gestured to the top one.

Emma glanced at the paper and read, "K. Jones." She turned the application towards Mary Margaret and showed her the photo of the late-20 something. An image of a woman with a wide, friendly smile, pale skin, dark red hair and sprinkling of freckles stared back at her. "What's your over/under that she's a drummer in a death metal band and needs to practice for hours every day?" Emma asked sardonically.

"She looks more like a preschool teacher than a drummer," Mary Margaret replied, "But you can't judge on appearance." Then she leveled her best motherly gaze at Emma and chided, "Keep an open mind."

Emma was about to protest that she had an open mind, had had an open mind with everyone the landlord's service had sent over, when a knock sounded. Emma welcomed the interruption by saying with faux enthusiasm, "That must be my new red-headed roommate." She quickly made her way to the door and flung it open.

She should have looked through the peephole. That way she could have been prepared. As it stood she was not prepared, in fact she was woefully unprepared. What's the word for when one feels like they've been stunned into silence? Dumbstruck. That was the word, and that word described Emma as soon as she laid eyes on what was on her doorstep.

The visage that met her was indeed pale, but not a red head, not a 20-something- though probably just barely north of 30- and definitely not a woman. No. It was a man. And not just any man, but six feet of tall, dark, and handsome man. He had perfectly mussed black hair, piercing blue eyes and just enough facial scruff that he looked like he had walked straight out of the pages of GQ.

"Hello," the man said, smiling at Emma. "I'm Killian Jones, here about the sublet."

Emma continued to stare at him and tried to process his words, but it was hard. Killian Jones. K. Jones. He couldn't be her potential roommate, could he? She was so confused it took much longer than it should have for her to realize he had an accent. A British accent. Oh my.

When Emma didn't respond, he looked around the door as if searching for the address. "I'm sorry, love, am I in the wrong place? I'm looking for," he glanced down at a scrap of paper. "Mary Margaret Blanchard."

Emma was still staring at him, still dumbstruck, and didn't notice that Mary Margaret was now standing right behind her. Mary Margaret directed a sideways glanced at Emma waiting to see if she would respond. When she didn't, the petite brunette smiled brightly at the stranger and stuck out her hand. "Hi, you're in the right place. I'm Mary Margaret, and this is Emma. It's quite chilly out there, won't you come in?"

He hesitated, clearly wary of Emma's reaction, but then moved past her into the loft. "Thank you, you're right I probably should have worn something warmer than this old leather jacket." Once inside, he looked around. "This is very nice... spacious and well appointed… not to mention… festive."

"Thank you," Mary Margaret replied cheerfully, clearly taking the compliment, after all, most everything was hers. Though, since her fiancé's house was already furnished, and they were intending to buy new pieces together, she was planning to leave much of the larger furniture in the loft with Emma. "The place will come with most of what you see here. Do you have your own furniture?"

Killian opened his mouth to respond, but at that moment Emma finally closed the door, whirled around and charged, "You're a man."

Emma had spoken with such fire that Killian was momentarily taken aback. He glanced from Emma to Mary Margaret who still was smiling widely, back to Emma. Tentatively, he said, "Aye."

"You aren't supposed to be a man."

Still confused, Killian studied her for a moment, now struck by how attractive she was. Fine features, slender but athletic form apparent despite her sweater and jeans, long blonde hair that flowed down her back, like she was in motion, but she wasn't, almost as if the force of her personality was propelling her in place. She was attractive indeed.

A wolfish grin stole across his face. "Yet, as you see, I am a man." He wasn't sure what made him say the next words out of his mouth, perhaps it was a reaction to realizing how beautiful she was, or perhaps it was her challenging tone, aggressive stance, and the fiery way her eyes danced with anger. "However, I'm happy to provide indisputable proof," he leaned in, winked at her, and then leaned back and looped his thumb over his belt buckle, "if you require."

It wasn't just his words that set Emma off; it was his expression and the tone of his voice. She felt her hackles rise and her defenses go up. She knew his type; she'd used her wiles on plenty of them back when she was a bail bonds person. All good looks and smarm, disguised as charm, and all of them snakes, though not as nice as the pet she'd refused to live with. "I don't doubt you're a man, but you're supposed to be a woman."

Killian's grin slipped and once again he glanced at Mary Margaret for help, however she was studying Emma as though she was observing the situation and not taking part. He looked back to Emma and offered with a shrug, "I'm sorry to... disappoint." The cocky grin returned as he added, "Though, I must say yours is not the usual reaction I get from women."

Emma rolled her eyes. Who in the hell did this guy think he was? However, she didn't doubt what he'd said for a second. He was ridiculously attractive and she couldn't be the only woman to have noticed. She was sure that if one were writing sonnets the only way to describe his eyes would be 'smoldering.' After a moment, she realized she'd been silent as she stared into those eyes, and forced herself to speak.

"No." Emma replied in a rougher voice then normal. She shook her head as if to clear it, as if that would clear away how distractingly handsome the guy was. Business, she had to stay focused on business. She was looking for a roommate, and he wasn't it. She held out the application so he could see. "K. Jones, the applicant to sublease, the applicant to be my new roommate is supposed to be this woman." She shook the paper emphatically.

Killian glanced at the application, but then his gaze quickly found Emma again. There was an intrigued glint in his eye. "You would be my new flatmate," he looked her up and down appraisingly before motioning to the other woman, "and not the lovely Mary Margaret?"

"Disappointed?" the word was out of Emma's mouth before she could stop it. He was distracting her from the point. The point being that he was not the red headed preschool teacher/death metal drummer she had been expecting.

"Not in the slightest, I like a challenge," Killian winked at her, before continuing, "And you seem an intriguing challenge indeed, but I take it you're disappointed I'm not this lass." He motioned to the photo she was still holding out towards him. "She looks a fine prospective flatmate, but I assure you," he arched one suggestive eyebrow at her, "We would have more fun."

Who did this flirty bastard think he was? "Whoa, buddy. Don't get ahead of yourself. First, I need to figure out who you are and why you don't match this application. You could be anybody off the street. I'm going to call the office. Mary Margaret, I knew I should have screened applicants myself instead of letting the property management company have a crack at it."

If Mary Margaret suddenly seemed a tad nervous, and overly interested in studying her fingernails, Emma didn't notice.

While Emma walked into the kitchen, cell phone pressed to her ear, Mary Margaret smiled at Killian. "While you're here, we might as well see the place. Shall I give you the tour?"

"Lead on, milady." Killian gave a slight bow and followed her down the hall.

xXx

A few minutes later, Emma hung up the phone and walked into the living room, saying as she went, "I spoke to Belle at the-"

She stopped short when she realized the room was empty. In confusion, she looked around. They had just been there; she'd only been on with Belle for a few minutes, where could they have gone? A shot of adrenalin hit as she pictured the handsome stranger dragging Mary Margaret outside to his van. All murderers had vans, didn't they? She rushed to the door, ready to leap into danger to save her soon-to-be ex roommate, when she heard voices down the hall. Moments later, she found a smiling, and safe, Mary Margaret showing Killian Jones the bedroom, specifically *her* bedroom. The flirty bastard was in her bedroom. An involuntary flutter at the thought conflicted with a prickle of irritation at what felt like an invasion of her privacy.

"What the hell are you doing in here?" Emma didn't exactly yell, but her voice was raised and tinged with anger, probably partially fueled from the adrenalin rush of a minute earlier.

Mary Margaret looked startled, and confused. "I was showing your prospective flatmate the bedroom."

The fact that Mary Margaret had picked up this man's, Killian's, vernacular fueled Emma's already irrational anger. "My bedroom. He doesn't need to see my bedroom. He won't be entering my bedroom." Emma's voice held finality, but also a bit of a challenge. "For any reason."

Mary Margaret looked at Killian apologetically before saying, "But Emma, I thought you were planning to switch to my bedroom room when I move out so…"

"Oh," Emma's embarrassment was so powerful, that she could almost feel the heat of the blush that stained her cheeks and chest. Mary Margaret was right. She did plan to move to the larger bedroom. Which wouldn't take much; Mary Margaret had already moved many of her things to David's. "Right. So..."

"So this would be Killian's room. I was showing him his room."

The presumption helped Emma get over her embarrassment. "Again, you're getting way ahead of things here. This is not going to be his room."

"Oh?" Mary Margaret inquired, "What did the office say?"

Killian watched them keenly, realizing it was probably in his best interest to stay quiet. Even though this Emma, the woman who would be his flatmate, seemed maddeningly tetchy and excessively defensive, he found himself very much wanting to live here. The location was great, the place was spacious and inviting and, he had to admit, the fiery Emma intrigued him.

"I talked to Belle. She apologized. She said she must have attached the wrong photo by accident. This is the right application, though. See," Emma held out the application for Mary Margaret's inspection.

Mary Margaret took it and flipped the page. A smile spread across her face, she looked at Killian and said excitedly, "One of your references is Graham Humbert? Look, Emma, one of his references is Graham."

Emma took the application back and scowled at the paper, studying it carefully.

"Aye, you know him?" Killian asked hopefully.

"Yes. Well, no, actually. Not really, but he's very good friends with my boss and Mary Margaret's fiancé. He's why I'm here. He was the Sheriff and when he left, David was promoted and hired me as deputy."

"Ah." Recognition flitted past Killian's eyes and he turned to Mary Margaret. "Graham mentioned that once I was settled he would introduce me to his successor and his betrothed, which must be you?"

"Well isn't this a small world," Mary Margaret guffawed and slapped her knee a little too hard.

Betrothed? Who spoke like that? Emma once again found herself wondering who this guy was. "How do you know Graham?" Emma asked her voice tinged with suspicion for no real reason other than she wanted to be suspicious. "Are you in law enforcement too?"

"I met him not long after I first arrived in this country; he was an instructor when I was getting certified. However, I find it more interesting that you're in law enforcement. You look like you've broken more laws than enforced." Killian's tone was once again flirty.

Emma rolled her eyes at him, again, and then leveled a glare that pretty well conveyed she was done with his sass. "Are you here to annoy me or to convince me you would be an excellent roommate? Because you're doing a really good job of one of those things."

Killian swallowed roughly and looked sheepish. "Apologies, lass..." Why did he always do this? Whenever he was a bit off balance in a situation, especially with a woman, he resorted to quips and innuendo. Now he aimed for sincere. "I very much want to convince you that I would make an excellent flatmate. Allow me to do so now. Despite this," he held up his left hand, it was shod in a black glove, and clenched, and unclenched, his fist. Emma's eyes went wide as she recognized the mechanical movement of the fingers. It was a prosthetic. She hadn't noticed until that moment. She stared for a moment and then realized he had started talking again. Her attention reverted to his face as he continued, "...I'm quite handy and can fix minor plumbing and electrical issues. I'm a fair cook, and I'm tidy; years in the Royal Navy conditioned me, so you needn't worry that I will disrupt the orderly home you so clearly keep."

Mary Margaret snorted at that, and Emma glared at her. It was true, though. Mary Margaret was the clean one. Emma could get messy, really messy when left to her own devices. However, she wasn't about to tell this guy that, so she took command of the conversation. "Can you pay the rent?"

"Aye."

"On time?" she pressed.

"In advance if you prefer."

"Do you smoke?"

"No."

"Do you have pets?"

"Only Robin."

Emma's eyes narrowed in confusion and Killian could almost see something change in her. One minute he was winning her over, the next minute it was all gone.

"That's a joke," Killian added quickly, in an apologetic tone, clearly this lass was no nonsense. "I'm used to ribbing my mate Robin at every opportunity. You see he's quite the outdoorsman, sometimes I joke he's more like a forest creature than a hu... never mind. Actually, he's really the only person I know in town. Robin Locksley?" Killian said the name almost as a question. "Perhaps you know him? He owns Hood's Tavern not far from the docks? He's my other reference," Killian gestured to the application that Emma was still holding.

Emma looked thoughtful. "I've been there a few times, but I don't believe I've met him." She glanced at Mary Margaret who was studying the print on Emma's bedspread very closely. Too closely. "What about you? You know everyone in this town."

Mary Margaret looked up, before feigning befuddlement. "What?"

Emma shot her a quizzical glance. "Killian's... mate," Emma said the word 'mate' in a fairly reasonable approximation of Killian's accent, then continued in her normal voice, "Robin, who owns the tavern by the docks, do you know him?"

Mary Margaret looked thoughtful and tapped her chin. "I believe David knows him, and I've met him before while in there. Nice guy. If I remember correctly he's got an adorable son, but not old enough to be in my class yet."

"Mary Margaret is an elementary school teacher." Emma explained to Killian.

His eyes lit up. "Indeed? His son Roland is..." Killian paused and looked as if he was doing advanced mathematics in his head, "...five." Killian looked triumphant at coming up with the answer. "What level is that on this side of the pond? Nursery school?"

"Kindergarten," Mary Margaret supplied with a smile.

"Ah." Killian nodded.

"Do you have children?" Emma blurted. Her curiosity had gotten the best of her.

His eyes went wide at the suggestion and he shook his head quickly.

"Ever been married?" Emma was surprising herself with these questions, but enquiring minds wanted to know. It had nothing to do with how unquestionably handsome he was and the curiosity about his personal status that she felt building deep-down.

"No."

"Why do you have only one friend in town?" Emma continued her rapid-fire questioning.

Killian chuckled lightly, before venturing to answer. "I don't know anyone, because I don't reside here... yet."

"What brings you to Storybrooke?" Emma inquired, though she felt herself softening towards him. The way his eyes lit up when speaking about his friend's son. It was... appealing. A guy who liked children couldn't be so bad.

"My work."

Emma didn't bother asking, she just gave him a pointed look.

"I'm with the State Marine Patrol, and they've decided to station an officer here," Killian elaborated.

"So you're in law enforcement?" Now this was interesting. If he was in law enforcement that probably meant he'd gone through rigorous background checks and was probably an upstanding citizen. Although, she reminded herself, she was in law enforcement and had quite a checkered past.

"Of a sort."

"What do you mean?"

Killian slipped into professional mode. When it came to his work, he was serious. "It's true, the Marine Patrol is tasked with maritime security, search and rescue and to enforce laws and regulations, but we're also involved in scientific research. That's really why I'm here. Storybrooke University has received a research endowment and the Marine Patrol has granted use of several vessels."

"You're a scientist?" Emma asked; his earnest demeanor intrigued her as much as his words. It was such a change from just a few minutes earlier. She was surprised; she never would have guessed he had such... substance.

He laughed good-naturedly at that. "No, love. I'm here to captain the ship."

Emma nodded thoughtfully. Despite her first impression of him as conceited and smarmy, it was all sounding pretty dang good. A profession that required background checks and some sort of standing in the community, multiple references that David knew, handy around the house, clean, could cook, and pay the rent in advance, not to mention, no smoking or pets. Other than the innuendo, and being excessively good looking, he was checking all the right boxes. Well, most of them.

She shot him a penetrating stare and said, "One last question, do you chant and what do you smell like?"

His eyes went wide at the questions, but he sensed he was close to closing the deal, so he answered as best as he could. "Chant? Uh...I don't... chant. I've been known to sing in the shower, but I needn't if it bothers you. As far as how I smell," he tilted his head down timidly as if afraid of what odors he might find there, "I'm afraid you'll have to tell me... is something wrong?"

"No, you smell fine. Good. Fine." Emma stuttered, newly embarrassed, however that didn't deter her. "Right now. But I don't know how you normally smell. Maybe this is just interview smell. What do you put on in the morning?"

Killian's cheeks turned red and he reached up and itched behind his ear with his index finger; this might be the most difficult interview he'd ever experienced. "Erm... put on? You mean like a bar of soap? I don't remember what brand it is, but it's just regular... soap."

"So you don't wear Patchouli oil?"

Killian looked at her in confusion. "I'm not familiar..."

"So you don't plan on smelling weird?"

Killian glanced to Mary Margaret, clearly looking for help and this time she finally came to his rescue. She smiled kindly at him and explained, "You'll have to humor Emma. You see the last applicant was very... earthy and she had quite a... pungent, self-inflicted, odor. I'm afraid Emma was traumatized by it."

His eyes went wide in understanding. "Well... I wouldn't describe myself as earthy, but the research is to do with fish and other sea creatures. I can't promise... I mean it's possible that I could come home smelling of... the sea."

She lived in a fishing village; everything smelled of the sea, so she could live with that. Emma glanced at Mary Margaret. She gave her a small nod of approval and it was the last bit of confidence Emma needed to make the decision. "The room is yours if you want it, Killian."

A wide grin broke out across his face. Emma was glad she didn't have to say anything more. Because a smile like that, on a man who looked like that, it was... trouble.

This might be a very bad idea.

To be continued


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes:** This was written for fallforcs but I missed the original deadline. Many thanks to the marvelous artist, Rouhn, who has created such a heart-warming piece to accompany this story on tumblr (at Lizacstuff), and to my darling friend, Shelley who generously gave her beta services and helps me be better in so many ways.

xxx

The first week that Emma Swan and Killian Jones lived together went extremely well, mostly because he wasn't there. The day after they'd settled that Killian would sublet from Mary Margaret, David had shown up with his truck and they had moved all her stuff out that day. Mary Margaret had claimed it was because she wanted to give Killian flexibility on when he could move in, but Emma knew that David and Mary Margaret were just that in love and anxious to start their life together.

It was lovely, really, and she loved them both and was so happy for them, but it sometimes made her feel inadequate. She knew she would never find what they had, knew there was no use trying. It's not that she had given up precisely; it's just that she knew it probably wasn't in the cards for her. And that was okay, it really was. Some people were just unlucky when it came to love. She was one of those people. Moreover, now, she had so much that she'd never had before, a steady job, friends, a great place to live and now school. She was content. As long as Killian didn't turn out to be a gigolo or an ax murderer the future looked bright.

Truth be told she enjoyed that first week. Mary Margaret and David helped her move her things so that she could enjoy the larger bedroom that had been Mary Margaret's, but then she had several blissful days alone. Killian was still in Portland, he had done little more than drop a few boxes by on Monday while she was at work. It was a little like she was a teenager and her parents had left her home alone. She stayed up late watching cable shows in the living room, this was novel because Mary Margaret was skittish about the sex and violence on HBO, she left dishes in the sink, a no-no with Mary Margaret, and she took long baths with the bathroom door wide open so she could hear the stereo in the living room.

She was taking one of those long baths on the night before Thanksgiving when unbeknownst to her, Kilian let himself into the loft with the key he had gotten from Mary Margaret the week prior.

And that's how Killian Jones ended up seeing Emma Swan naked on their first official night of living together.

xxx

Work had been tough that day. Emma was called to a domestic, something that didn't happen in Storybrooke very often, but was a bit more common as the holidays approached. All had been resolved between Ashley, a nice young woman who knew Mary Margaret, and her stepmother, who was not all that nice. The whole thing ended up being much ado about nothing, the stepmother liked to shout about how a turkey should be prepared and the neighbors had had enough, but it had still been stressful. Next was a drunk and disorderly, at 5pm no less, at the Rabbit Hole, involving some of the men who worked in a local mine.

Once she was off-duty all she'd wanted was a good dinner, which in this case was take out from Granny's, some TV and then a nice relaxing bath before bed, especially since she knew the next day would be a long one. It was Thanksgiving. Holidays were never her favorite, but this one should be... okay. Busy, but okay. She was working the early shift and then was due around 3pm at David and Mary Margaret's for dinner.

She'd made herself a hot chocolate, grabbed one of Mary Margaret's seasonal pumpkin whatever candles, and headed upstairs to pamper herself. It was while she was luxuriating in a very bubbly bath, Norah Jones wailing from the living room - Spotify was curating songs from a playlist she'd found entitled "Bath Chillaxing"—that she remembered the pie. She hit her forehead with one soapy palm and muttered, "Damn it!" She was supposed to be making a pumpkin pie for tomorrow and the pre-bought crust was still in the freezer.

She scrambled out of the bath, not bothering to drain it or clean up in her haste, grabbed a towel from the rack, patted the moisture off herself, then wrapped said towel around her dripping hair, and took off towards the kitchen, specifically the kitchen freezer.

Naked.

xxx

All Killian Jones wanted was a cup of tea. Well, actually, what he really wanted was a beer or maybe some rum, but he knew he didn't have any of that handy. However, when he'd signed the sublease agreement, Mary Margaret had given him a very thorough tour, had shown him the stash of staples, things like coffee and tea, and invited him to help himself. Since he knew there was tea in his new loft, tea it would be. He'd have to stop at the grocers tomorrow. Except, he reminded himself, that tomorrow was American Thanksgiving and if memory served from last year, his first year in the states, not much was open on the holiday. Friday then. Though he would get hungry before then, surely there was some restaurant or convenience store open in Storybrooke tomorrow? He remembered his friend Robin mentioning he was closing his pub for the holiday. If worse came to worst he had some powerbars in his car. Powerbars and tea, it would do the job, but he knew his American friends would pity that as a Thanksgiving feast.

Before he unlocked the door to the loft with his key, Killian knocked. Mostly just to let Emma know he was there so she didn't draw her firearm on him when he entered. She seemed like she might be trigger happy, so startling her was not on his agenda. She didn't answer a second knock, and when he opened the door and did a quick scan of the living area, he didn't see her. However, he knew it was likely she was home as the music from the stereo was on and it was loud. He hadn't really picked Emma for this kind of music, too bluesy and soulful. The woman was full of surprises. The first being how ridiculously attractive she was. When Belle, from the management agency had told him about the situation, he hadn't really been looking for a roommate. Even so, he'd had no qualms about living with a woman. He was there to work. Moreover, he had still considered himself to be in mourning- even though his love had died five years prior- and not interested in dating, so potentially being attracted to the woman who was to be his flatmate was not even a possibility in his mind. However, he hadn't bargained on her being possibly the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. He hadn't bargained on Emma.

As he entered, he looked around, but didn't see her. He did, however, see signs that she'd been there. In addition to the music and the lights, on the living room coffee table sat a Styrofoam to-go container. He peered down and saw several onion rings and remnants of what looked like a toasted cheese sandwich.

"Emma?" He called in a raised voice, but the music pretty much swallowed his call.

He walked back to the entrance and dropped his backpack and duffle bag by the door, and then headed back down to the car to get his other bag and suitcase.

When he came back inside, he sat his suitcase and bag by the duffle, shut the door and walked into his new home. It had been a long day. He'd had to work and then the drive from Portland should have taken three hours, but it had taken over four, probably due to holiday traffic. He made a beeline for the kitchen and that cup of tea he'd promised himself.

As he walked, his attention was on the living room, his eyes trying to find the source of the music. If Emma didn't appear soon, he would have to attempt to turn it off himself and he wasn't sure where it was coming from. That's probably why he didn't see Emma until he was already in the kitchen; her back was to him as she rummaged in the freezer. She was naked.

He froze. Emma. Naked. His new flatmate. Naked. A beautiful woman. Naked. Her back was to him, so all he could see was a boundless expanse of alabaster skin, the plains of her lightly muscled back sloping down to the curve of her bum. His heart thumped in his chest and his mouth went dry. What should he do? Leave? Announce his presence? Avert his eyes? All of the above? Before he could act on any of those things, she turned, saw him, dropped what was in her hand and let out a blood-curdling scream.

That shook Killian out of his naked-Emma induced stupor. He put up his hands as if to claim his innocence and backed several steps away. He turned his head in an attempt to give her privacy, as she screamed at him, but he still saw glimpses of creamy skin and long legs and pert breasts and curvy hips and a slender stomach.

Chaos reigned for a good thirty seconds. Killian waving his arms as if to disclaim any wrongdoing, Emma trying to cover herself with her hands, until she had finally calmed down enough to remove the towel from her hair and wind it around her torso and cover everything that should be covered. She ran to the living room, found the remote for the stereo, shut it off and then whirled on him in anger. Once there was silence, she filled it by yelling, "WHAT IN THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?"

With that question, Killian thought it would be okay to look again. He removed his hands from his face and his gaze found Emma standing in the living room. Her hair hung around her face in messy, damp tendrils, a white towel wound strategically around her midsection, the swell of her breasts straining against the terry cloth as she panted from the adrenaline rush she'd just experienced. She had one hand over her heart as if she was trying to still it; the other planted angrily on her hip. She was glaring at him in a way that made him glad she couldn't conceal a weapon in that towel.

Unconsciously, Killian mimicked her by putting his own hand over his heart; it was definitely beating faster than it had a minute ago, for a variety of reasons, and focused on her question. _What in the hell are you doing here?_ He met her eye. "I live here?" It came out as a question. Perhaps Mary Margaret hadn't told her it was a done deal? "I signed the lease last week," he ventured.

"I know," Emma replied angrily, "But I thought you wouldn't be here until at least Monday."

"Oh," Killian replied. He wasn't sure what to say to that. He had never said he wasn't coming until Monday. "Why?"

"Why what?" Emma asked.

"Why did you think I was moving on Monday?" Killian still found it best to avert his eyes, so he trained them on a spot past her ear, as if studying the wall for cracks.

"I guess... I just..." Emma paused. Why did she think that? Surely, she hadn't just assumed such a thing. Or had she? "I didn't expect you to show up at 10pm when you haven't even moved your stuff in yet. I thought there would be... movers and stuff," she finished lamely.

"But I did."

"You did what?" Emma demanded.

"I did move in."

"What are you talking about?"

"I brought my belongings on Monday while you were out."

"Those boxes in my old room? Your belongings consist of four cardboard boxes?"

"Five boxes," Killian corrected her and then with his prosthetic pointed to the area by the door, "and those bags." He had to admit that his possessions were not much. He shrugged apologetically, "When you go from the Navy to living in another country, you don't accumulate much."

"Oh." For the first time Emma allowed herself to study him. It was only the second time she'd ever seen him. In the intervening days, she'd decided that her mind had exaggerated how good looking he was. No one could be that good looking. She was wrong, someone could be that good looking and he was standing in her kitchen while she was almost naked in the living room. She felt goosebumps rise on her arms and she wasn't sure why, was it because it was November and she had wet hair and was in a towel, or because he was so good looking?

"Mary Margaret is allowing me use of her bedroom furniture for the time being."

"Kinda girly." Emma taunted. She wasn't sure why she said it, mostly because she was completely discombobulated.

"Not as girly as all your naughty bits hanging out." Killian shot back, mostly without thinking.

Emma looked down and realized her towel had sagged. Her cheeks flamed and she tugged the towel tightly around her. Embarrassed. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, and the anger had subsided, she was left with embarrassment. Her new, extremely handsome roommate had seen her naked on the first night.

Well done.

She checked to make sure everything was covered and then started backing out of the living room towards the hallway to her room. "I'll just be... in my room. Lock up, won't you?"

Not knowing what else to do, Killian just nodded and watched her disappear down the hall.

She shut the door to her room and once alone Emma flopped on the bed. What had just happened? Why had she assumed he wasn't moving in until Monday? In her defense, she really had expected him to schedule a time for movers and for it to be a big production. Not for him to arrive with a few suitcases at 10pm the night before a national holiday. Emma drug herself off the bed and to her vanity. She ran a comb through her hair, and then found a full set of pajamas in her dresser and put them on. She usually slept in a T-shirt, but tonight she thought it best if she was as covered as possible. Lest she meet her new roommate again, though that was unlikely since she had no intention of leaving her room.

What a humiliating beginning. She had no idea how she was ever going to face him again. Maybe she could evict him? That thought ran through Emma's mind as she climbed into bed and for some time before she finally drifted off to sleep. Things were sure to seem better in the morning.

Xxx

Emma let her head fall against her desk, and then knocked her forehead against the wood several times for good measure. The night before she'd told herself that by the morning she'd be laughing about it. She wasn't. At least not yet. What had she gotten herself into with this guy as her roommate? He hadn't even really moved in yet and he'd already seen her naked. She had managed to live with Mary Margaret for over 10 months and nothing like this had ever happened. Why now?

When Emma's alarm went off at six that morning, she'd groaned, stretched and then smiled remembering it was Thanksgiving and she had a good meal ahead of her. She was sure David and Mary Margaret would pull out all the stops for dinner. Then she remembered the night before. Her smile turned to a grimace and she buried her face in a pillow, wondering if it was feasible for her to hide in this bed for the rest of her life.

She had to get to work. Her hair was half-wet when she'd gone to bed, which meant she'd woken up to wild, out-of-control tangles. She'd stuck her head tentatively out of her bedroom door, looked around surreptitiously and then ran to the bathroom, as if that would help her avoid her new roommate if he were up and about. Once there she locked the door, then stripped down in order to take a quick shower and wash her hair. It wasn't until she was halfway through her shower that she realized the bathroom had been clean and tidy when she entered. The bathtub drained, her half-drank mug of cocoa gone, the pumpkin candle snuffed; there were no remnants left of her bath the night before.

Killian. Killian must have drained the tub and cleaned up after her. She felt a flash of irrational anger at him. How dare he do something so invasive! However, that only lasted for a couple of seconds, before she grudgingly admitted to herself that it was actually a nice thing for him to have done and it was a good thing he'd taken care of the candle that she had completely forgotten about. Plus, he probably had wanted to use their shared bathroom.

She sighed as she shut off the water and stepped out of the shower. So far, she was the one who was a terrible roommate. Which... maybe that was a good thing? Maybe he would hate living with her so much he would move out. That would be easier than evicting him. Of course that meant she would have to restart the roommate finding process again, and that was almost less appealing.

She stayed in the bathroom until her hair was dry and styled and her makeup applied. It was childish, she knew, but she wasn't ready to run into him. Yet. Once that was done, she made another mad dash to her bedroom, dressed in her usual uniform of boots, jeans and sweater. Then inspiration struck, she riffled through her closet until she found an acceptable dress and shoved that in a bag. She had originally planned to stop back home to change before dinner, but now... she didn't really want to run into Killian. She'd dress at the station, and then go directly to the farm and avoid him completely. Perhaps she'd get home late enough that she wouldn't have to see him at all that day.

It was on her drive to work that she remembered the pie. She hadn't baked the pie for Thanksgiving. She had been so busy being seen naked by her new hot, British roommate that the pie had been forgotten, and she had no time to make it before she had to be to the farm at three o'clock. What was Thanksgiving without pumpkin pie? She sighed remorsefully as she realized she, Emma Swan, was going to ruin David and Mary Margaret's first Thanksgiving living together.

It was while getting coffee at Granny's, the only place that seemed to be open on the holiday, that salvation came. Granny's sold pie. Of course, for a holiday centered around pie most people ordered them weeks in advance, but maybe she could still get one. The server, a gal named Ruby who she knew a little through Mary Margaret, informed her that Granny always baked extra for drop-ins and she was lucky she was early. However, there was no pumpkin left, she could buy a pecan though. Ruby insisted that Granny was famous for her pecan pie and assured her David loved it. Emma tried not to show her disappointment as she accepted the not-pumpkin pie. Emma liked pecan pie, but it wasn't her assignment. However, it was the best she could do under the circumstances. Mary Margaret and David had been so good to her, how could she have forgotten to bake the pumpkin pie? Deep down she knew it wasn't Killian's fault, but she blamed him. A little. Or a lot. Another point in the eviction column.

Thank goodness, she'd thought to pack something to wear. She knew she would have to face Killian sooner or later. But she wanted it to be later. Much later. She couldn't just text him an eviction notice. Could she? Of course the problem was she wasn't sure she had real grounds to evict him, or even if she could do it. Technically the lease was still in Mary Margaret's name, so maybe Mary Margaret would have to do the evicting? She didn't know, but she could find out.

Emma took out her phone and hit Mary Margaret's number. When the other woman answered, she said without preamble, "He has to go."

"What?" Mary Margaret asked, a little breathless.

"Killian has to go."

"Why?" Mary Margaret panted.

"What are you doing?" Emma asked. "You sound like you're running a marathon."

"Thanksgiving is a marathon. A cooking marathon." Mary Margaret said with a grunt. "Give me one second."

Emma waited patiently for Mary Margaret to return, feeling like an even worse friend. Mary Margaret was spending all day making a wonderful Thanksgiving meal and Emma couldn't even get the pie right.

"Sorry, I was just heaving the turkey into the oven. It's in! I love this kitchen, Emma, the oven is so much bigger and nicer than ours. David's mother did an excellent job of renovating a few years ago." Anyway, I'm at a good place so I have a few minutes to chat. Now, what were you saying about Killian?"

"Is Ruth there? Did she come back for the holiday?" Emma asked, ignoring her question about Killian, wanting to prolong giving her the bad news about the pie. Last Emma had heard it was up in the air if Ruth was going to make it back. She'd moved to Florida a few months prior and planned to spend the winters there. When David had proposed to Mary Margaret, Ruth had promptly decided to refurbish the apartment next to the barn into a mother-in law suite for visits and summers and left the farmhouse to David and his new bride. Not only was Mary Margaret getting the best guy, she was also getting the best mother-in-law. Which was great, because her own mother had died when she was a pre-teen. She'd then lost her father when she was a teen. It was one of the things over which Emma and Mary Margaret had bonded. They were both orphans, though Emma never knew her own parents at all. Plus, Mary Margaret did have a stepmother, though, the relationship there was strained at best.

"Not yet. Actually, David just left to pick her up from the airport. Which is great, really great."

Emma could hear the forced cheeriness in Mary Margaret's voice. Emma knew she adored Ruth, so it couldn't be from a lack of desire to see her. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Mary Margaret said brightly.

"Mary Margaret..." Emma said imploringly.

Mary Margaret exhaled loudly, and Emma could almost picture her crinkled brow. "It's just that it's our first holiday as an engaged couple, in our home, but it used to be Ruth's home, and she used to cook the Thanksgiving dinners. What if Ruth doesn't like it? What if I can't do Thanksgiving like she did? What if David doesn't like the way I make Thanksgiving dinner? I want everything to be perfect and I would have been okay with a year to practice before his mother was here. Judging me."

Emma's stomach twisted. No pumpkin pie was definitely not perfect. However, she set that aside for a moment.

"First, take a deep breath." Emma said firmly. "Second, what are you talking about? David loves your cooking, I mean loves it. He loves it so much that he often talks about it at work the next day. Third, even if he didn't love your cooking, he loves you so much he wouldn't care. You could feed him grass for Thanksgiving and he would think it was the best thing ever. Third, or… did I already do third? Fourth. Fourth, I've met David's mom on multiple occasions. She is a lovely woman who adores you as much as you adore her. I know she adores you because I've seen it, plus David told me she adores you. You know that she just wants to spend time with you. I can't think of a less judgmental future mother-in-law."

"Right," Mary Margaret said, then added, "You really think so?"

"I really do. There is no way you can mess this up, but..."

"But what?"

"Well, there's no way for you to mess this up, but there is a way for me to mess it up. I'm really sorry."

"What is it?" Mary Margaret sounded alarmed. "You can't come? You're stuck at work and you won't make it?"

"No-" Emma started before Mary Margaret interrupted her.

"Emma Swan, if you're bailing on this dinner to go home and be antisocial and eat poptarts I will never forgive you. You just heard me, I'm a wreck, I need your moral support."

Emma laughed at that and her heart warmed at the sincerity in her friend's voice. It was novel for her to feel so wanted. "It's not that. I'm still coming, it's just that..."

"What?" Mary Margaret prompted when Emma didn't finish her sentence.

"I forgot to make the pie and it's all Killian's fault." Emma was talking fast and her voice was a bit higher than normal. "But don't worry; I bought a pecan pie from Granny's. That's her specialty and Ruby said David really likes it. I'm not coming empty handed. We will still have pie, really good pie even, better than I could make, just not pumpkin. I'm really sorry."

"Is that all?" Emma could hear the smile in Mary Margaret's voice and felt herself sag with relief as her friend continued talking. "Don't worry about it Emma. Pie is pie. Not a big deal, though I do have one question."

"Anything, shoot."

"Why is it Killian's fault you didn't make the pie and is that why you want him gone?"

Emma didn't answer. The very idea of telling Mary Margaret what had happened had her mortification rushing back.

"What is it, Emma, what happened?"

Emma squinched her eyes closed as tightly as she could, as if doing so would shut out the embarrassment. "He saw me naked last night and I was so humiliated by the whole thing I shut myself in my room and forgot about the pie."

"He what?" Mary Margaret fairly shrieked.

"You heard me."

"He saw..."

"Everything," Emma replied.

"How exactly?"

"It's too embarrassing," Emma moaned.

"Just tell me what happened. Did you have sex with him?"

"NO!" Emma shouted, "How could you think that?"

"I don't know... it's something people get naked to do."

"I knew this would be mortifying, I'm hanging up now," Emma muttered into the receiver.

"No!" Mary Margaret replied almost as vehemently as Emma had when denying the sex question. "Now it's your turn to take a deep breath. You're a sheriff's deputy, give me the facts. Why didn't you have any clothes on?"

Just the facts. Emma could do this. "I was taking a bath."

"He barged in on your bath?" Mary Margaret asked, sounding scandalized.

Emma wanted to say, yes, that would be much less embarrassing and help convince Mary Margaret to evict him. However, she knew she couldn't be that unfair. "Not exactly."

"What do you mean 'not exactly?'"

"I was in the bath last night about 10 o'clock, when I suddenly remembered the pie, and I remembered the crust was still in the freezer. I knew I had to get that out immediately to defrost so I leapt out of the tub-"

"You leapt out of the bathtub?" Mary Margaret asked trying to stifle a giggle at the image.

"Pretty much!" Emma replied indignantly. "Now do you want me to finish the story or not?"

"Oh, I want you to finish the story. Actually, I'm going to get myself a cup of coffee for this one. Please continue. When does Killian seeing you naked happen?"

"I'm getting to that. Anyway, I was in a hurry to defrost the pie crust-"

"You know, you don't really have to defrost the crust, you can put it right in the oven with the crust still frozen, just add a few minutes onto the baking time."

Emma took a sip of her own coffee from Granny's and then huffed, "Information that would have been helpful last night. Maybe then I wouldn't have leapt out of the tub in a panic, ran to the kitchen completely naked except for the towel which was wrapped around my hair, not my body."

"Oh," Mary Margaret said failing to keep the laugh out of her voice. "You forgot Killian was there and-"

"No! I didn't forget because I didn't know! I thought I was alone. I didn't hear him come in, he hadn't even moved in yet, I wasn't expecting him. I was in the bath; the music was on in the living room, I had it turned up so I could hear it in the bathroom. So there I was at the freezer, taking out the crust that apparently didn't need to thaw, to thaw, and when I turned around, there he was! In the kitchen! Right behind me! Staring! That's why it's his fault I didn't make the pie, and that's why he has to go."

Emma's voice had taken on an almost hysterical quality by the time she got to the end of the story. She took a few deep breaths, and didn't fail to hear the muffled sounds from the other end of the phone. "Are you laughing at me?"

"No." Mary Margaret lied.

"You are. You're laughing at me."

"I'm not laughing at you," Mary Margaret tried for dignified but she was still gasping for breath. "I'm laughing with you."

"This is serious, Mary Margaret, I'm mortified."

"I can hear that." Mary Margaret said, "But why?"

"Are you serious? Why am I mortified?"

"Yeah."

"Are you not listening? He saw me naked!"

"So?"

"So? Come on, he saw me with all my jangly bits flopping about. Naked. No clothes."

"Emma. I know you're guarded, believe me, I know. But nudity is a natural thing. Besides I have seen you in your bikini and believe me when I tell you, you don't have anything that flops about, you have a slammin' bod."

"Thank you for that... I think." Emma grimaced not sure the compliment made her feel any better. "However, that's not the point."

"Okay, let's regroup. What did Killian do?"

"I told you, he stared!" Emma's voice was full of accusation.

"Em-ma," Mary Margaret said. "He's a man, and you have the aforementioned slammin' bod and he happened upon you naked. I think we can excuse him from staring. He was probably too startled to look away, now the question is was he creepy about it? Did he leer? Did he purposefully make you uncomfortable or anything like that?"

Emma thought back, thought back to Killian's reaction. He had been as flustered as she was. Plus, once she'd turned around, he'd tried to shield his eyes. Maybe at first he had been too startled to look away. And come to think of it he hadn't said anything designed to offend. Could he have been as mortified as she was? "No, he didn't leer and he didn't try to make me uncomfortable."

"Well that's good. What did he say?"

"Um..." Emma pinched the bridge of her nose with two fingers as she tried to remember. "Mostly it was me yelling at him, asking him what he was doing there. And him explaining that he was moving in. There is that, don't you think it's weird he was moving in at 10pm the night before a holiday."

"He moved in on Monday, I thought you knew." Mary Margaret said apologetically. "That's why I moved out a few days early, so that he could be flexible and bring things down when he had time."

"No, I knew, but I thought that was a just a few things, not everything he owned. I was expecting movers and a scheduled time... and stuff." She once again finished lamely. "Anyway, I wasn't expecting him, he showed up, now he's seen me naked and he has to go."

"Emma it doesn't really sound like his fault that he saw you naked."

"Are you blaming me?" Emma asked indignantly.

"Of course not, it was an accident. An embarrassing accident. However, I predict it's a story you'll both be telling for laughs by Christmas."

"No way. No one is to hear this story, and the both of us aren't going to be doing anything. Killian will move out, and go back to where he came from, preferably Europe, we'll never see him again, and you and I will take this to our graves."

"Emma," Mary Margaret's voice held a motherly tone. "Killian's job is here, at least for the next year, possibly longer if he likes it. He's not leaving Storybrooke because he saw you naked."

"Okay, but that doesn't mean I have to live with him!"

"He signed a lease and from what I can tell he's done nothing to break it. Besides, you don't really want to turn him out on the street do you?"

"Yes. That's what I want. I want you to turn him out on the street." Emma knew she was being juvenile and irrational, but that was a big reason he needed to go. She barely knew him, and he was the reason she was acting crazy. What could happen if they got to know each other better? Best just to cut ties with him now, with the added bonus that she would never have to face her embarrassment over the hot guy seeing her naked.

"Me?"

"Yes. You're the one on the lease. We're both subleasing from you."

"Come on, Emma. Let's take a breath. He has barely moved in, and remember how hard it was to find someone in the first place? You don't want to go through that again."

"I don't, but-"

"But nothing. I really think you need to give this some time. He's a very nice guy. Did you know he can shuffle a deck of cards one-handed?"

"Wh... what?" Emma stuttered. "What does shuffling cards have to do with anything?"

"Nothing really. But there was a deck in the cabinet when I was giving him the in-depth tour of the place on Monday and we got to talking and he showed me. It's pretty slick. It's also a reminder that the poor man has one hand. Plus, David talked to Graham. Graham didn't get into details, but said Killian's had a pretty rough go of it. I think it would be nice for him, for both of you, if something went right. You're both good people. You both need a roommate. So give him a chance."

Feeling chastened, Emma didn't respond. So Mary Margaret added, "I'll take your silence as an 'I'll think about it.' Now, I have to get back to cooking and you have to get back to work. I'll see you at three, with the delicious pecan pie. Bye."

xxx

The rest of Emma's day at the station passed uneventfully. Thankfully, most of the citizens of Storybrooke seemed to be celebrating the holiday and keeping out of trouble. Mostly she tried not to think about what Mary Margaret had said. Both she and Killian needed something to go right. However, maybe him seeing her naked was a sign that things weren't right. That they were very, very wrong and they should both cut their losses before they were stuck in a bad situation. Did Mary Margaret ever think of that?

Around half past two, she headed to the small locker room at the station and put on the clothes she'd brought, an emerald green wrap dress made of soft jersey. It had long sleeves, but clung to her in all the right places and showed either a bit or a lot of cleavage depending on how she tied it. For a low-key event like Thanksgiving dinner, she tied it so there was a tasteful hint. Modest, but flattering.

Emma turned onto the lane leading to the farm; the tires of her old Volkswagen bug crunched the fallen leaves that were scattered everywhere. She took a deep breath and marveled at how quaint it all was.

She quickly made a decision; she wasn't going to think about Killian or her living situation for the next few hours. She was going to have a picturesque Thanksgiving at a farm with actual friends. She'd never had anything like this before and she was determined to enjoy it. Thanksgiving at the farm would be a Killian-free zone.

The first thing Emma noticed when she pulled up to the house, were the number of cars. A few days earlier at work, Emma had asked David how many people were coming to dinner, but he'd been clueless and said something about Mary Margaret's penchant for picking up strays. Emma couldn't argue with that, as she'd been one of them.

Besides David's truck and Mary Margaret's car parked in front of the house, there was an expensive looking late model sedan that Emma knew belonged to Mary Margaret's stepmother Regina, a sleek black SUV and a beat-up Subaru Outback. Emma was surprised that Mary Margaret's stepmother had shown up, she was also the town mayor and usually too busy for any family gatherings. Regina might have been Mary Margaret's stepmother, but was only a few years older than Mary Margaret, since she'd been about 20 years younger than her late husband when they married. She was a cold, business-like woman and she seemed to resent Mary Margaret for some reason, so Emma didn't much like her; despite that fact Mary Margaret was always trying to forge a relationship. For that reason alone, Emma was glad the mildly-evil stepmother deigned to show up at the farm.

The second thing Emma noticed was a small boy, bundled up against the cold, chasing David's dog, Wilby, through the leaves in the yard. What was a small boy doing there? She hadn't been expecting any children.

Emma gathered her purse and the pie from the car and headed into the house, feeling quite curious about the two cars and the small boy, and to whom they belonged. She hadn't recognized the other two cars, but that didn't mean much. She didn't know all of David and Mary Margaret's friends and those she did, she didn't necessarily know what they drove. She only knew Regina's car because she was the mayor and occasionally was at the Sheriff's office on business. The other two could belong to anyone.

Emma took a deep breath and headed inside, determined to relax and enjoy her first real traditional Thanksgiving celebration.

xxx

To be continued...


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes:** Many thanks to Rouhn who created such a heart-warming piece to accompany this story (on Tumblr at lizacstuff) and to my brilliant pal, Shelley, for the beta

xxx

When Emma entered the living room, she found a man she didn't recognize arguing with Regina.

"That's ridiculous. The zoning law in and of itself favors the rich and disadvantages the poor. If-"

The man stopped talking when he noticed Emma. His eyes went wide as he watched her walk into the room. HIs reaction caused Regina to look over at what had interrupted his diatribe. "Oh, Miss Swan, it's you. I should have guessed you'd be here."

"Hello, Regina, Happy Thanksgiving," Emma said through a fake smile. The woman was always so belittling, but Emma was determined that it would not get to her. She looked at the man and then back to Regina, expecting an introduction. When none was forthcoming, Emma shuffled the pie to one arm and stuck out her free hand.

"Hello, I'm Emma. Emma Swan."

"Wow." The unidentified man said as he shook her hand.

Emma crinkled her brow. "Pardon?"

"Emma! You're here!" Mary Margaret cried and she entered the room and rushed over to her friend. She leaned in and kissed her on the cheek, then took the pie so Emma could shrug out of her coat and hang it in the entryway. "You know Ruth of course," Mary Margaret gestured to a stout woman with a kind face who had entered the room behind her.

"Of course," Emma replied and accepted the hug that Ruth gave her. She wasn't much for hugs, but when it came to people like Ruth, David and Mary Margaret you had to get used to it. "How are you, how is Florida?"

"Wonderful, just wonderful, I'll tell you all about my condo complex later. It's like spring break for seniors."

They all laughed and then Mary Margaret gestured to the unidentified man. "Have you met Robin?"

"Not... really." Emma turned back to the man who had managed to school his earlier dumbstruck expression. "Robin, is it?"

"Yes... um... ma'am, pleased to meet you. I... errr... apologize for my rudeness, but he didn't exaggerate... I thought he was exaggerating... but no."

"I'm sorry, who are you talking about?" But as soon as Emma asked the question she felt the dawning of cold realization hit her. Robin. His name was Robin. Killian's only friend in town was named 'Robin.' He had a 5-year-old son. There was a boy of about five playing in the yard.

"I believe he's referencing me," a newly familiar accented voice said from behind her.

Emma whipped around. Killian. Her roommate. The man who saw her naked a mere 17 hours ago, not that she was counting. The last man on earth she wanted to see on Thanksgiving. That Killian was in the room.

He was standing in the door, clearly just having entered from outside. His cheeks were pink, but Emma wasn't sure if that was from embarrassment or from the cold. The cold, it had to be the cold. What did he have to be embarrassed about? She was the one who had been caught naked. By him. She stared for a moment, nope he hadn't gotten less good-looking overnight.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded.

"Emma!" Mary Margaret covered, stepping forward before Emma could say anything else inhospitable. "I invited him."

Of course she did. Emma turned on her and hissed, "Can I talk to you a moment?" before stomping out of the room.

Before following her, Mary Margaret smiled at the group as though there'd been no weird tension a moment earlier. "Does everyone have something to drink? David," she called towards the kitchen, "Emma needs a glass of wine and Regina needs a refill."

With that Mary Margaret left the room and found Emma pacing in the back hall. "Emma, you're being rude."

"What were you thinking inviting him here?" Emma's eyes flashed with anger. "You know what happened!"

"Exactly. I know what happened, and I know if you let it fester without confronting it, the situation will just get worse."

"So... what? You thought you'd fix it by inviting him to Thanksgiving?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact I did. Also, he's new in town, I thought he might be all alone on Thanksgiving. I called, as it turned out he was planning to spend the day unpacking his boxes and settling in and his friend Robin and his son were planning to head over with pizzas. Can you imagine? Feeding that adorable child pizza on Thanksgiving? I don't care if they aren't from this country, it's just not done. So, I invited the whole lot of them. Besides I needed someone to make the pumpkin pie."

Emma was about to retort that it was no crime to eat pizza on Thanksgiving, she'd done it more than once in her time, when the last sentence registered. "Wait, what did you say about the pumpkin pie?"

"I said someone needed to make the pumpkin pie."

"I thought you said it was fine I forgot."

"I did and it was. But that doesn't mean we should go without, does it? Especially when you already had all the ingredients."

That took the wind out of her sails. "Fine, but don't expect me to be nice to him."

"You're a big girl," Mary Margaret said in her best mom voice. "I expect you to be nice to all my guests."

"Fine," Emma said defiantly. "But don't expect me to look him in the eye; I'm not ready for that yet."

Mary Margaret moved behind her, gripped her shoulders and started propelling her back towards the living room. "You don't need to look him in the eye, but you do need to talk to him. I think if you do, you'll feel better."

Xxx

When they entered the living room, Mary Margaret immediately veered off toward the kitchen, Regina appeared to be once again arguing with Robin, and Emma could see David in the dining room showing his mother an antique cabinet he'd refinished since she'd left. That left Killian. He'd been sitting on the couch, but he stood when she entered.

Emma took a deep-breath and walked over to him, however she kept the promise to herself and didn't meet his eye. Instead she looked out the window. She could see Robin's son out there still playing with the dog. She pretended it was the most fascinating thing in the world. "Killian."

"Swan."

That got her attention. "What did you call me?"

"Swan," Killian replied, less confident this time. "That is your name?"

Realizing she was looking at him, she aimed her gaze back out the window. He had her there; it was her name.

"How was your day?" she asked with a formal note to her voice.

"Fine. Fine day," he replied, meeting her formal tone and eyeing her cautiously. "Yours?"

"Fine," she responded noncommittally.

There was silence for several beats until Killian gestured to the room. "This is a nice place."

"Yes," Emma replied evenly but didn't elaborate.

Killian tried again. "Mary Margaret must have an unlimited supply of pumpkin décor," he nodded towards the room which was brimming with seasonal decorations, from what I saw last night she didn't take any from our place."

Emma bristled, and she feared, blushed, when he referred to the loft as 'our' place. She swallowed roughly and finally said, "I heard you made a pumpkin pie."

"Aye," he replied brightly, hoping he had finally done something right in her eyes.

"I suppose that's fitting, since it's your fault I didn't make it last night."

"My fault?" He had been about to apologize for upsetting her, when she'd made the charge, and now he felt slightly nettled. "How did I prevent you from making pie?"

Emma finally met his gaze, hers lit with a fiery indignance. "You're not serious right now."

"I'm quite serious. How did I impede your ability to make pie?" he asked with incredulity.

"You!" Emma began loudly and only then realized they'd attracted the attention of Regina and Robin who had stopped arguing and were now looking over at them with matching quizzical expression. "You know what you did!" Emma hissed at him as she tugged him towards the front door and further away from Regina and Robin.

He glanced down to where she had a hold of the cuff of his navy button-down shirt, and then replied in a lowered tone, "I arrived at a location I had legally leased! I'm the one who was startled out of my mind. If anything, you should be impressed I was able to pull it together enough to bake a mere 12 hours later." Killian shot back, but he had a twinkle in his eye. "I heard there was a welcome wagon in the states, but that was a welcome… locomotive."

Emma's cheeks flamed red. "Are you seriously making fun of me right now? You think that is the right path?"

"No, Swan," he replied sheepishly, chastising himself obviously taking the wrong tack with her. "I'm trying to relieve the tension by making light of the situation, but you're not making it very easy on me."

"Easy, you want easy?" Emma hissed. She was furious, who was this guy to walk in on her naked and then make fun of her over it. "I'm not going to ruin David and Mary Margaret's Thanksgiving, so we'll play nice for the next few hours, but when we get home tonight, I want you gone. Consider your lease terminated. How's that for easy?" Emma demanded, but then not waiting for an answer she whirled on the spot and stalked into the kitchen. Dumbfounded, Killian could do nothing but watch her go.

Xxx

Seething, Emma threw herself into helping Mary Margaret with the cooking. When Mary Margaret asked her what was wrong, Emma merely shook her head, pasted on an overly large smile and said, "Nothing" and offered to mash anything that Mary Margaret needed mashed.

Prior to dinner, she saw Killian only once; as she was taking out her aggression on a giant bowl of boiled potatoes, he came in to offer, once again, his help to Mary Margaret. Emma just continued mashing, perhaps a bit more violently than before. Mary Margaret looked between the two and then hastily ushered him out of the kitchen, assuring him that everything was almost ready and suggesting with a smile that he might help David select the wine.

By the time Emma was placing her giant bowl of mashed potatoes on the table and David was calling the rest of the party to the dining room, she was a bit calmer.

Though now she felt something taking root in the pit of her stomach. She headed back to the kitchen to remove the apron that Mary Margaret had lent her and took a few deep breaths while leaning against the sink. However, the pit didn't go away. It wasn't anger, that had dissipated as she mashed all the lumps out of the potatoes. Maybe guilt? Or remorse… over evicting Killian?

It couldn't be, the guy had to go. She didn't think there was anything necessarily wrong with him, actually, he seemed nice, but there was just no recovering from such a disastrous first night of living together. What she did not acknowledge, even to herself, was the terror that took root in her soul at the jolt she felt when her eyes met his deep blue ones, or the warmth that seemed to start in her chest and wash over her when she had grabbed his sleeve.

When Emma re-entered the dining room, she finally noticed that Mary Margaret had done an amazing job setting the table. It was festive but elegant, warm and inviting all at the same time. Ruth's delicate white china sat atop chargers that were a shiny burnished-orange color. Wine glasses and crystal water goblets, that Emma knew had belonged to Mary Margaret's mother, sat in the proper place above each setting. Down the center an emerald green table runner, embroidered with colorful fall leaves, complemented the dark wood of the table, and matching placemats sat under the chargers. A flowered centerpiece of festive fall colors adorned the center of the table. Emma knew Mary Margaret had acquired the chargers, placemats and table runner a few weeks ago, after much deliberation, just for this occasion. It was a good reminder how much this meant to her friends. She needed to get a grip, and she was determined not to allow her unpleasantness with Killian to ruin this dinner.

As she surveyed the room, a resolute smile pasted on her face, she found herself facing a dilemma. The group had assembled and started getting settled quickly. While still bustling around, Mary Margaret and David were clearly planning to sit at either end of the rectangular table.

Regina and Robin, who were now bickering over some issue related to municipal open space, were getting settled next to one another on one side of the table while Ruth and Killian were seated on the other. She had two choices for open seats. Either one near the corner between Mary Margret and Killian, or the catty-corner seat between David and Robin. With determination she set off towards David's end of the table, only to see little Roland enter the room and climb up on the seat. Right. The little kid should probably sit next to his dad. Part of her felt so desperate not to sit next to the man she'd just evicted from her, or technically Mary Margaret's, apartment that she briefly considered asking Ruth and Killian to switch places, so that Ruth would be in the middle seat instead of Killian and serve as a buffer between them. That would be awkward, and clearly Ruth wanted to sit next to her son, so she abandoned the idea.

Slowly, Emma made her way back around the table and to the seat next to Killian. Without looking at him she sat down and then picked up the crisp white napkin held in place by a bronzed pumpkin napkin ring. She studied it like it was a puzzle to solve and not just a piece of cloth to slip out of a large metal ring. Methodically, as if undertaking a complex and delicate operation she unfolded the napkin and placed it on her lap. Anything to keep from looking at him or thinking about the way the hairs on her arm stood up when she accidentally brushed against his arm.

When she felt him rise beside her, she had hope for a brief moment that he was changing seats.

However, that hope was dashed as soon as she felt him bend over her and ask in a lowered voice, "Red or white?"

"What?!" Emma was startled both by his nearness and the question she wasn't expecting from him.

She looked up and found Kilian smiling kindly at her, as if she hadn't just put him on the street. He was holding two bottles as he asked again, "Would you like red wine or white, Swan?"

He was being helpful again. He seemed to do that a lot, and she couldn't help but be impressed with how he handled the bottle of white with his prosthetic hand. Emma somehow managed to utter, "White."

xxx

Things progressed in typical fashion, though none of this was typical for Emma. Turkey was carved, dishes were passed, and more wine was poured. Once all the plates and goblets were full, David lifted his glass, and everyone fell silent and gave him their attention.

He looked around the table, an expression of joy on his face. "I'd like to take a moment and thank you all for sharing this day with us." He looked to Mary Margaret and smiled widely, before continuing, "This is a special day, Mary Margaret and I hosting our first Thanksgiving dinner in our home. It means everything to us to have my mother with us all the way from Florida," Ruth blushed and blew a kiss at her son, "as well as in-town family," he nodded at Regina magnanimously, "and our friends, both dear," he nodded at Emma, "and brand new" he gestured his glass at Robin and Killian. "So I'd like to say how thankful I am for all of you for making this so special, and I'm especially thankful for my beautiful, talented fiancé who has been cooking for days to make this amazing meal. So please join me in raising a glass to Mary Margaret!"

"Here, here," voices sounded around the table as everyone lifted their wine glasses and clinked them against their neighbor's. Emma glanced down the table and saw Robin helping Roland use his milk cup to clink with everyone on his side of the table and smiled. It was such a cute image that she forgot herself, until she felt Killian leaning towards her.

"Cheers, Swan," Killian smiled at her and Emma had no choice but to tilt her glass against his. He looked relaxed, as if he didn't have a concern in the world. Why did he look relaxed? The man didn't have any place to sleep tonight, shouldn't he be concerned?

He very clearly wasn't, so Emma took a sip of her wine and tried to relax. Happy chatter sounded around the table, as everyone began to dig in to the feast.

"Mary Margaret," Regina said loud enough for the table to hear. "I'm surprised we didn't engage in your favorite Thanksgiving tradition, it's never been my favorite, but I know how you love to hear what everyone is thankful for."

"Oh," Mary Margaret said, pink tinging her cheeks. "I… uh… I thought we could do it before dessert."

Regina nodded once, looking a little sorry she had brought it up, so to change the subject, she looked across the table at Killian. "So, Killian, Robin tells me you'll be working with the University next year, wouldn't it be cozy if you and Miss Swan ended up both living together and studying together."

Killian looked up from where he'd been cutting his turkey, to find five pairs of eyes looking at him. Roland was playing with his milk cup, and Emma was looking anywhere but at him. However, she was the one he wanted to address.

He turned to her as he asked, "You attend Storybrooke University?" His voice held both surprise and maybe… delight?

"You didn't know?" Regina's voice held a note of mocking derision. "Against my objections, she was hired by the Sheriff's department despite her lack of diploma, but if she wants to climb any higher, she'll need to complete a four-year degree."

Robin turned swiftly to Regina, "You objected to hiring her?" The two started to bicker once again.

David quickly added from the head of the table, though Regina was too engaged with Robin to hear, "Degree or no, Emma's doing a marvelous job as deputy. Would someone pass me the gravy?"

The rest of the table was now engaged in either talking or eating and Killian spoke softly to Emma as he buttered a roll. "You didn't tell me you're also a student."

"Is that a problem?" she shot back. "If so, we've already solved it, you're moving out tonight."

Once again, he was unperturbed. "It's not a problem at all, I just didn't know."

"When would I have told you? We've never had a real conversation." After a beat she added softly, "When I'm clothed."

"Aye," Killian's eyebrow popped up as he agreed. "That's true, I have not had the pleasure of truly conversing with you. How about the present? We could have a "real" tête-à-tête, now, over this amazing repast."

"What would be the point?" Emma whispered through a fake smile. "This is our last meal together, ever."

"If that's the case what can it hurt, Emma? Idle conversation, with a fellow guest, over a shared meal." Killian held out his wine glass to hers as if to cheers once again.

She glanced over at him skeptically. "What happened to calling me 'Swan'?"

"You didn't seem to like it," Killian replied affably.

"I don't mind it so much." Emma's reply was almost a mumble.

"Excellent, Swan, it is. Cheers?" he prodded once again.

"That's… whatever… fine," Emma grudgingly conceded, as she clinked his glass, before adding, "but I can't ignore Mary Margaret." Emma took a sip of wine and turned to engage her host and friend in conversation and found that Mary Margaret wasn't even seated. A glance around the room told her that Mary Margaret was hovering over Roland, helping to clean up some milk he'd spilt. Emma was half way out of her seat to help, when she realized the mess had already been cleared and Mary Margaret was grinning broadly and laughing as Robin apologized. Mary Margaret was just fine and having the time of her life in her role of hostess.

Emma took a bite of mashed potatoes and then turned to Killian and gave him the bit of information that had begat the current bizarre conversation. "I'm not a student at Storybrooke University, but I will be in January. I'll be majoring in criminal justice, so nothing to do with fish studies, our paths won't cross."

At that Killian almost choked on the bit of stuffing he'd been eating. He swallowed roughly, and took a sip of water before asking with a chuckle, "Fish studies?"

"Isn't that what you said you'll be driving the boat for?"

"If by fish studies you mean Marine Biology and Coastal Conservation, and by "driving the boat" you mean 'captaining the ship' then you're correct." Killian replied a bit stiffly. You could call marine biology 'fish studies' in his presence and he didn't care, but one did not make jokes about his ship.

"I do." Emma replied trying to stifle her laugh.

Killian watched her amusement at her own joke. He felt his shoulders relax as he took in the enchanted way her lips curled upwards. She shook slightly as she tried to keep from laughing out loud. "You're having a go at me."

"I am. Don't you think I'm due?" Emma asked, turning to meet his gaze. For a moment, silence reigned between them; it was the first time she'd truly made eye contact with him during the meal. Her pulse quicken as some sort of electric current zipped between them.

"As you wish, milady." He grinned at her, almost wickedly and Emma thought she was going to faint. His eyes were so blue, and they were looking at her intensely, as if he really, truly saw her. The crinkles around his eyes, damn him, were also appealing, they made him look kind and maybe even wise. For better or worse, this guy affected her. Thank god he was moving out, otherwise who knew what would have happened.

xxx

Emma was a big enough person to admit that dinner was lovely, even though she had spent most of it talking to the very person she was trying to avoid. True to her word, she continued to make every effort to engage Mary Margaret in conversation; however, Roland and the milk were just the beginning. Her best friend had barely been in her seat; she was constantly refilling side dishes, offering more turkey, and tending to her guest's needs. Emma would have felt bad except that it was obvious how much her friend loved it. Killian spoke several times to Ruth, though the older woman was clearly most interested in catching up with her son. To Killian's delight and Emma's chagrin, that left each to the other's company throughout the meal.

Both agreed that Mary Margaret had done a spectacular job with the food, though each also admitted that they had little to compare it to as far as Thanksgiving dinners went.

Emma was actually surprised at how quickly dinner passed. Dessert rolled around, and it was finally time for each person to confess what he or she was thankful for this holiday. Ruth kicked it off, and as the guests each spoke in turn it was a barrage of the typical, "I'm thankful for friends and family" type answers one expects, except for Roland who was thankful for his new pal Wilby. This put the small boy even more into David's good graces, as he also was quite fond of his dog.

When it came to Emma, she took a gulp of wine before looking over to Mary Margaret. "I'm thankful for my friends David and Mary Margaret, for many reasons, but today I'm thankful that they've invited me to my very first big, traditional family Thanksgiving feast. It's never been my favorite holiday, but they've shown me the appeal, thank you." Mary Margaret reached over and squeezed her hand and she felt Killian beside her, studying her quizzically.

"That must be my cue," Killian said. "This is also my first Thanksgiving celebration, so I'd also like to thank David and Mary Margaret for bestowing their great kindness on a poor British expat who is new to town." He looked to his left, and Emma could feel his gaze on her, "I'm also thankful for Emma, my new flatmate, for opening her home to a stranger with few possessions and fewer friends in this town. It can't be easy to welcome someone new, share space with a bloke off the street, but I appreciate her taking pity on me and I will endeavor to be useful and make sure she does not regret it."

Without realizing what she was doing, Emma found herself turning towards him as he spoke, meeting his gaze. When she did she felt a flutter in her chest, and it was the most concerning feeling she'd felt in some time. She quickly looked away and fumbled for her wine glass as she heard Killian answer a question from Ruth about whether this Thanksgiving had lived up to the examples he'd seen on American TV shows.

Killian's attention being elsewhere, Emma sighed with relief. The meal was nearly over, which meant her close proximity to Killian would soon come to an end. Just like their living arrangements. There was that pang in her stomach again, maybe she'd eaten too much?

Regina and Robin insisted Mary Margaret stay put and relax with her guests and offered to serve the pie; the next thing she knew Robin was leaning between her and Killian asking, "Pumpkin or Pecan?"

Killian smiled at her, and without looking at Robin, followed the lead David had set at the head of the table, "I'll take a slice of both, mate. Thanks."

"And for the lady?"

Emma met Killian's gaze with a challenge and said, "Pecan only for me."

When Robin had set down their plates and moved on, Emma leaned to the side and said in a whisper, "That was a very nice thing you said, about being thankful… for me… or whatever, but if you're trying to guilt me it's not going to work. You still need to move out, tonight."

Killian was once again unruffled by his impending homelessness. "Love, relax and enjoy some pie. Are you sure you don't want a bite of pumpkin?" he asked holding out a forkful of the pie he'd made.

The truth was she really did want some pumpkin pie. This was her first real family-style Thanksgiving, it didn't seem complete without at least sampling some pumpkin pie. So, despite her own desire to spite him, and the pie he had prevented her from making, Emma leaned forward and closed her mouth around the fork. Immediately her eyes closed, and she let out a small moan as she let the sugary pumpkin confection melt on her tongue.

Killian stared at her, gobsmacked. He hadn't really expected her to take the bite of pie, and he really hadn't expected her to moan around a fork he'd held out to her. It was thrilling to watch and he felt something deep down, but whether it was affection or desire, or both, he wasn't sure. This woman was like no other he'd ever met before; this woman was trouble.

Killian pulled his fork from her mouth and Emma swallowed and opened her eyes. She wasn't surprised to find that he was watching her intently, a spark of something in his bright blue eyes, she was surprised, however, to find that that fact pleased her.

Killian quickly returned the fork to his plate and cut another bite, this time he ate it himself.

Emma was taking a sip of wine and watching him.

"Is my pie making acceptable? Is it everything you wanted your pumpkin pie to be?" he asked after he finished his bite.

"I didn't really have any expectations," Emma said. "I've never made pumpkin pie before."

"What I meant was, does it taste good?"

"You just had a bite yourself," she replied, there was no need to fluff his ego. It was very good pie.

He shrugged before saying, "I've never tasted pumpkin pie, so I'm not sure if I failed or succeeded. I wanted to make sure I did you justice, so I followed the recipe I found on your counter very carefully."

Something about that softened her resolve a bit. Killian spending the morning meticulously following a random recipe she'd printed out from Pinterest as if it had been an old family favorite. Finally, she relented. "You succeeded. It's pretty… decent pumpkin pie."

Killian grinned wolfishly at her. "I knew it!"

Emma shook her head and busied herself by taking a bite of Granny's Pecan Pie, but she couldn't fully suppress the smile that tugged on her lips.

Xxx

Emma was very happy to escape to the kitchen after dinner to wash dishes. Escape from him. It's not that she found him unpleasant. She had to admit that she didn't. At least not anymore. She found him… pleasant, in fact, she found herself liking him, among other emotions. That was the problem, it was also reaffirmation that he had to go.

Mary Margaret and David bustled around behind Emma packaging leftovers in containers for each guest to take home. When they were done with that, she shooed them out and told them to go enjoy a drink with their guests, she would finish cleaning up.

When she turned back and surveyed the mounds of dishes piled on counters and on the kitchen island behind her she briefly felt remorse for shooing them away. Resigned to a long bout of tedious cleaning, she sighed, opened the empty dishwasher, and turned back to the sink and contemplated where to begin.

"Love, if we start with the plates we can get them quickly into the dishwasher before we move on to the larger platters and bowls."

"We can't put the china in the dishwasher it's too delicate," Emma replied instantly, and then whipped around to face him. She demanded, "And what are you doing in here?"

"I'm helping with the dishes, and the lovely Ruth just told me that we can put the china in the dishwasher, she says she's done it every year."

Emma huffed and crossed her arm defiantly. "I don't need your help."

He looked around at the giant mounds of dirty pots, pans, bowls, serve wear, and dishes, and then back to her, pointedly.

Emma relented with another sigh, "Okay maybe I could use the help." She glanced at his prosthetic. "I'm guessing it's best if you dry?"

"Actually, if our most excellent hosts have a set of dish gloves, I think I should wash. You know the kitchen better than I would when it comes to putting things away."

Emma opened the cabinet doors under the sink and from the very organized bin pulled out a pair of pink flowered rubber gloves. "These do?" She smirked at him.

"Splendidly," Killian replied and took them from her with a bright smile. He turned to the sink and got to work. Scraping excess food from plates into the garbage disposal, and then rinsing them clean. Emma took each plate from him as he finished and put it in the dishwasher. As he started the larger pots and pans, Emma flitted around drying dishes and putting them away as best she could, mostly by trial and error. She wouldn't admit it to Killian, but she didn't know this kitchen all that well. However, she had lived with Mary Margaret for long enough to generally know how she organized things and was mostly able to guess correctly as to where items belonged.

They worked mostly in silence, the only conversation about the work and the kitchen. It was comfortable. Somewhat unsettling, but also comfortable, if one could feel both emotions at once. At one point Killian began humming something that she could only assume was some sort of sea shanty from ye olde England. When he caught Emma's eye, he waggled his eyebrows at her as he continued the tune. She just rolled her eyes at him.

With cheek, Killian stopped humming and said, "My apologies, is this the kind of chanting that disqualifies me as your roommate?"

Emma finished placing a large measuring cup on a top shelf and then whipped around to face him. "You're humming, not chanting," she replied dryly. "And you know full well what disqualified you from continuing as my roommate and it's not the humming."

"Excellent!" he replied jovially and started humming again as he turned back to the sink.

Emma rolled her eyes again, not that he saw. The truth was, she was having fun. Which was not something that usually happened while she was doing the dishes, or, if she was honest with herself, really ever. With that disconcerting thought, she threw herself into drying a giant baking pan.

"Swan, I don't wish to alarm you, but we make quite the team," Killian said a few minutes later as he shut off the kitchen sink and turned to survey the kitchen. "We made pretty short work of the chaos."

Emma had walked into the hall so Killian turned back to the sink to finish wiping down the surrounding countertops.

"Killian," Emma said a moment later in a tone designed to get his attention.

He was so surprised to hear his name he whipped around to face her and found her holding her phone out in front of her.

"Did you just take my photo?" he asked incredulously.

"I thought it right to immortalize you in those ridiculous pink flowered rubber gloves," Emma replied with a smirk as she looked down at her camera, pleased with the image she had captured.

Killian watched her shrewdly before a wide grin spread across his face. "If I'm moving out tonight, what would you do with the photo?" he asked, a teasing note to his voice.

She put down her phone and looked at him. "Okay, buster, I told you hours ago that I was evicting you, and you haven't seemed upset in the slightest."

"No, I haven't," he agreed affably.

"Can I ask why? If I was going to be homeless on a cold November night I'd be more concerned than you seem to be."

"Swan, I'm not concerned, because you're going to change your mind."

"How can you be so sure?" Emma crossed her arms in front of her and leaned back against the counter behind her. The two movements seemed at odds with one another and he was struck by how intriguing he found this woman. He recognized something in her, they were not that dissimilar.

"You're something of an open book."

"Am I?" Emma asked nervously. This was a first; most people told her she was closed off and inscrutable. The idea that someone could read her was unsettling.

"Quite." He turned back to the sink as he said, "Allow me to take off these gloves, procure us a pair of fresh libations, and I'll elaborate."

However, by the time he'd turned around Emma was gone.

To be continued


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes:** This was originally written for FallforCS but I missed the deadline. Huge thanks to counttotwenty for taking time to beta this and to Rouhn for generously allowing me to use the amazing aesthetic she created for FallforCS (on my tumblr Lizacstuff).

Xxx

Killian leaned back against the kitchen counter and sighed. He really thought he'd been making progress with her. Actually, until she bolted, he knew he'd been making progress with her, which if his instincts were correct, that progress was why she'd left the kitchen in such a hurry. Undeterred, he replenished their drinks and set out to find her.

He succeeded almost immediately. Emma was in the living room talking to Ruth and David. He had rarely met anyone so skittish, though he understood where she was coming from. He and Emma were more alike than she knew. He took a good look at her and while she was admittedly radiant, there was something about her bearing that reminded him of a cornered animal. That was the last thing he wanted, he was not a predator and she was not prey. So, he changed course and decided the best thing to do was to give her space and time to regroup. The evening was still young; he had to hope there would be time later to resolve their differences.

A glance out the window told him that even though it had grown dark, Roland was once again outside playing with David's pup, this time Robin had joined him. Killian set the drinks he was carrying on a side table and headed over to the entryway. The drinks, and his conversation with Emma, could keep. It took him only moments to shrug into his coat and let himself out into the cold evening air.

xxx

Ruth watched Emma as her gaze followed Killian across the room and out the door. David was oblivious to Emma's sightline, but not to the people outside. He pushed himself up from the chair where he'd been enjoying his guest's company. "If they're going outside, I think I'll go light up the new gas fire pit on the patio out back. It's a surprisingly balmy night for Maine in November, but they could use a place to warm up and I've been itching to try it out."

"Balmy? It's 40 degrees out there!" his mother cried as she gave an exaggerated shiver.

"You've already been in Florida too long," David teased as he leaned down to kiss her cheek. "You know that in Maine 40 is considered a balmy November evening." In a flash, he had his cold weather gear on and was out the door after Killian.

Ruth watched him go and then turned her warm expression on Emma. "How have you been, dear?"

Emma returned the smile; Ruth was a very welcome distraction from Killian. "I'm well, but I want to hear all about this spring break for seniors. I take it you like Florida?"

"Oh, yes," Ruth said as her eyes lit up. "It was hard to leave Storybrooke and I miss it, but I don't miss the cold and there is much to entertain in my new community. Bingo and poker nights, all sorts of classes from pottery to swing dance, plus we do swim aerobics even in November!" she exclaimed delightedly before expertly pivoting back to Emma. "But enough about me… how are you fairing now that Mary Margaret has moved out of the loft?"

"Fine, just fine," Emma fudged as she idly picked at the pumpkin embroidered on one of the throw pillows. Things had been decidedly not fine since Mary Margaret moved out, or at least since her new dangerously handsome roommate had moved in and seen her naked. "Of course, I miss her, but we still see each other all the time."

"Of course, you do," Ruth replied soothingly. "Plus you have such a charming new roommate. How lucky you were to find each other."

Emma felt both a prickle of irritation and the knot tighten in her stomach at someone speaking so well of Killian. Mostly because if so many people liked him, it probably meant she was being unreasonable, and she certainly wasn't ready to admit that. "Well…"

"Well what dear?"

Emma finally replied with a defiant lilt to her voice, "Charming is in the eye of the beholder."

At that proclamation, Ruth's peel of laughter rang loud. "I've been around long enough to know charming, my dear. My son is quite the charmer as well. Your Killian is not only charming, but so handsome, and polite."

"Those qualities are also in the eyes of the beholder," Emma responded before quickly adding, "and Killian is certainly not 'mine.'"

Just then Mary Margaret entered the room carrying a coffee service, Regina trailing behind. "Anyone want coffee?"

Emma declined but Ruth accepted and as Mary Margaret and Regina settled in the living room, Mary Margaret asked, "What are we talking about?"

Before Emma could answer and pivot the conversation, Ruth said, "Emma was just trying to convince me that she doesn't find her new handsome, charming roommate to be either handsome or charming."

"Hogwash," Mary Margaret waved her hand in dismissal. "She's just upset because he saw her naked."

"Mary Margaret!" Emma shrieked. Perhaps her hostess had had more wine at dinner than she thought. The woman was a lightweight and could easily get tipsy off one glass of wine, and Emma knew she'd had at least two.

"What?" Mary Margaret asked innocently.

"We were supposed to take that to our graves! That's what I specifically said when I told you this afternoon."

Mary Margaret shrugged in a gesture of half apology. "You know I can't keep secrets."

Emma just glared at her former roommate as Regina said with a chuckle, "Well, well Miss Swan, you certainly do work fast."

Emma huffed defensively and turned to the older woman. "It wasn't like that. It was… well... it was not like that," she repeated lamely.

"What was it like... exactly?" Regina asked settling back in her chair, obviously anticipating a juicy story.

Mary Margaret looked at Emma expectantly until Emma put one hand over her eyes, as if blocking out her vision would block out her supreme embarrassment, and mumbled for Mary Margaret to go ahead and tell the story.

Mercifully, Mary Margaret related the whole sorted tale without too many dramatic effects or embellishments. When she got to the reason Emma jumped out the tub so quickly, Ruth interjected kindly, "You know, dear, you don't have to thaw the pie crust, you can use it frozen and just increase your bake time for a few minutes."

Mary Margaret looked delightedly at her soon to be mother-in-law. "That's what I said!"

Emma didn't lift her hands from her face when she mumbled, "Thank you. We've established I'm useless in the kitchen, can you move the story along?"

Xxx

Killian chased Roland and Wilby around the old farmhouse several times before the rambunctious play ended in the adult tackled into a pile of leaves by a 5-year-old and an energetic English Shepherd. Robin strode over as the dog, and boy, scampered off, now on the hunt for David who was joyfully leading them towards the barn and the promise of seeing the old tractor he kept there. Grinning from ear to ear, Robin held out a hand to help Killian up from the leaves, "For a loner you are remarkably good with children... and dogs."

"I'm not a loner," Killian replied as his gloved hands brushed the leaves off his black jeans. "However, I'll concede that a sailor's life is transitory by definition and I've... grown accustomed to being alone." Robin was one of the only people around who knew of all the loss in Killian's past. His parents were gone at a young age, then both his lover and his left hand brutally taken from him as a young adult. It had been Robin, who was also no stranger to loss having lost his own wife when his son was an infant, who had convinced Killian to make a fresh start of it in the states, just as he had.

"Now you're here." Robin said resolutely as he pushed away the morose thoughts, slapped Killian on the back and motioned towards the fire pit. As they made their way towards the warm glow, they could hear shrieks and barks of delight coming from the barn and Robin knew his son was in good hands. "Storybrooke is the perfect place to set down some roots, and..." Robin wagged his eyebrows at him before continuing, "you won't be able to hermit away now that you have a roommate. An incredibly attractive roommate at that, you said she was pretty, but I still wasn't prepared."

Killian felt an emotion that he hadn't experienced in years suddenly flutter alive in his chest. He knew without a doubt it was jealousy, but its presence shocked him. Did he really feel a flare of the green-eyed monster because Robin thought Emma, Emma whom he had zero claim to and who hated him, was attractive? He paused a moment, then studied his old friend as they came to stand by the fire. Robin was eyeing him appraisingly and common sense returned. Robin wasn't expressing romantic interest in Emma, he was teasing Killian, besides his friend had spent all evening engaged in conversation with the severe, but not entirely unattractive, mayor. His interest most definitely lay elsewhere.

"She's stunning," Killian finally agreed. "In more ways than one, but I'm afraid..." he trailed off, not wanting to verbalize the situation, because acknowledging it made it real and he'd been trying to pretend it wasn't real all night. Bravado his way through it, it was a tactic that usually worked for him.

He was surprised at how melancholy he felt at the thought of his new living arrangement being doomed to failure before it began. When he'd first contacted the property management agency, recommended by Graham, he'd assumed he'd find a solitary living situation. However, Belle, the woman who worked there, had told him about the loft, said that it was too good to pass up and convinced him to give the situation with Emma a chance. He had, and now he found himself in a fraught arrangement, the exact type of fraught arrangement he had wanted to avoid at all costs. However, now it was an arrangement that he desperately wanted to work out in his favor. How had this happened? How had he managed to upset her so profoundly on the very first night of living together that she'd kicked him out on the second night? And how had it come to be so important to him that she let him stay?

As they sat down on the long bench on one side of the fire pit, Robin watched him keenly and saw a myriad of emotions pass across his usually stoic friend's face. He prompted, "You're afraid?"

Kilian took a deep breath before admitting, "I'm afraid that I deeply offended the fair Swan, and now she wants me to absent myself."

"Absent yourself? From Thanksgiving or does she mean move out before you've really even moved in with her?"

"Aye, absent myself permanently, I'm afraid."

"You arrived late last night. How did you manage that?"

Killian contemplated telling him the whole story, but then shook his head. This is what Emma feared, he would not speak of it without her permission. "It doesn't matter. What does matter is that she's terminated my lease, starting tonight."

"You must have really mucked it up."

All Killian could do was nod in agreement as he sat forward to warm his right hand closer to the fire.

Robin gave a sympathetic exhale; Killian really couldn't catch a break. "You're welcome on my couch if you need a place to stay, you know that."

Kilian turned and shot him a weak smile. "Thanks... I...uh... I hope she'll change her mind, but if she doesn't, I'd appreciate that, mate."

xxx

Emma needed a drink, but, tragically, there was no alcohol within her reach. There were two drinks across the room, she'd seen Killian set them there and she assumed one was for her. However, moving didn't feel like an option. She was sitting on the couch, one hand still covering her eyes as Mary Margaret finished the humiliating Killian-seeing-her-naked story. "...and then Emma ran back to her room, shut herself in, and didn't see him again until she arrived here for Thanksgiving dinner."

Mary Margaret looked satisfied with herself for correctly relaying the story, Regina looked like she was trying not to laugh and Ruth looked sympathetically at Emma and said, "Oh, Emma, I would be embarrassed if it happened to me, but when you think about it, it's not so bad. It sounds like an accident."

"A very convenient accident if you ask me." Regina interjected with a note of sardonic humor. "Let me get this straight. One apartment, two... young and some-might-say-attractive, single people-"

"Oh, is he single?" Ruth interrupted Regina, something that was uncharacteristic for her to do and showed her eagerness to learn the information.

"Robin mentioned that he was," Regina confided and then turned back to Emma, "So perhaps it happened so you two can cut out months of doey eyes and yearning looks and get straight to the sex."

The other three women gasped as if they had just watched Regina slap someone across the face.

"What? You were all thinking it." Regina sat back and smugly took a sip of her coffee.

"Wha...no... I don't... no..." Emma sputtered trying to find words to defend herself. She finally retorted, "There were no yearning looks and I don't have doey eyes."

"Maybe not you, but he does. All night long. Back me up, Ruth." Regina reached over from her chair to gently nudge the older woman with her elbow.

Ruth looked uncomfortable, but then bobbed her head to one side empathetically. "There may have been looks."

"Exactly, so maybe walking in on you wasn't an accident is all I'm saying." Regina smiled wickedly, clearly pleased with her pot-stirring.

Mary Margaret glared at Regina as Emma found herself in the strange position of defending Killian. "It was an accident. I didn't plan it, he didn't plan it. Neither of us knew the other would be there. It happened... ON ACCIDENT... and now he has to go."

"You admit it was an accident?" Mary Margaret asked innocently.

"Yes," Emma replied sulkily. "But that doesn't make it any less humiliating or excuse Killian's behavior tonight."

That caught the attention of Emma's audience. "What did he do tonight?" Ruth asked with a note of concern in her voice.

Emma sat up straighter; she hadn't expected to have to back up her assertion when she made it. Now that she did, she knew her charge sounded lame. "He… uh... he made a joke at my expense."

Mary Margaret frowned at that admission; she was nothing if not protective of Emma. "What did he say?"

"He said… well it doesn't matter, he made a joke earlier."

"In front of people?" Regina asked shrewdly, now switching to play devil's advocate on the other side.

"No," Emma admitted, "it was just the two of us when I first arrived."

"You mean when you arrived in a bad mood and I sent you over to try and break the ice?" Mary Margret voice was light as she asked the question.

"I didn't arrive in a bad mood; I became irritated when I realized you invited him to Thanksgiving without telling me!" Emma's voice was about an octave higher when she ended the sentence than when she started. She knew she sounded petty, but that didn't stop her.

"So, when he made this joke, was he possibly laughing with you, not at you? He's in an awkward position as well you know."

"He said he was trying to break the tension, but-" She stopped when all three women gave her knowing looks. "What?"

"Humor is a coping mechanism; perhaps he wasn't making fun of you, perhaps he was just trying to get passed the embarrassment," Ruth gently reiterated Mary Margaret's point.

"Maybe he was making fun of me, maybe he wasn't." Emma replied slowly, the knot in her stomach returning as she conceded that perhaps Killian hadn't deserved her knee-jerk reaction. "But that doesn't explain why he won't accept the fact that I've evicted him."

"Emma! You told him he was evicted?" Judgement rang through Mary Margaret's voice as she continued, "On Thanksgiving?" It wasn't clear whether Mary Margaret thought evicting him or doing it on Thanksgiving was the bigger sin.

Emma gulped guiltily. "How am I supposed to live with someone who's seen me naked?"

"One can do so quite happily," Ruth interjected knowingly. Mary Margaret tried to hide her shock at her future mother-in-law's cheek. Regina was rubbing off on her.

"He's personally not my cup of tea, but I can think of worse things than living with someone you find handsome and charming… and who's seen you naked," Regina added before taking another sip of her coffee.

"I don't… I didn't…" Emma put her head into her hands in frustration. Mary Margaret moved from her chair to the couch next to Emma. "Emma, I'm sorry. If I knew this would bring you so much distress, I wouldn't have arranged it; I really thought this would be a good situation for you."

At that Emma's head popped up. "What do you mean 'arranged it?'"

"Uh... nothing?" It came out as a question and the three pairs of eyes trained on Mary Margaret all registered that they knew she was lying. Not only couldn't Mary Margaret keep a secret she was also a terrible liar.

Mary Margaret turned pink, then red. She took a deep sheepish breath before saying, "Fine. Graham was in town last month. He told David and me about Killian and what a great guy he was and how he was moving here. With me moving out we thought it would be a perfect solution for both of you, so I told Graham to have Killian contact Belle at the property management company."

Emma glared at her. "You did what? Why wouldn't you just suggest I meet him?"

Ruth leaned back as if to try and stay away from the fray, Regina smirked before taking another sip of coffee, clearly enjoying the drama that didn't concern her, and Mary Margaret winced. "Because…"

"Because why?" Emma prompted with fire in her bearing when Mary Margaret didn't immediately answer.

"Because of this." Mary Margaret twirled her hand in front of Emma. "Because of what's happening right now."

"What?" Emma's brows knit together in confusion.

"Emma, I love you, but you can be a bit closed off to suggestion, and…"

"And?" Emma demanded when Mary Margaret didn't immediately finish the thought.

"And stubborn... and prickly when it comes to letting new people in. I thought if he were the perfect candidate with great references, vetted by the property management company, you might be more open to him than if he was someone closer, who might build connections with people you have connections with…"

"I'm prickly?" Emma replied sounding hurt.

Mary Margaret reached around her and hugged her from the side. "Not with people you let in, but you have walls. Look it's only natural that you would not react well to what happened last night. But you're not upset about the nudity, you're upset because you feel exposed and that's a hard place to begin with someone when you have had to spend your whole life building a protective shell around yourself."

That revelation hit Emma like a ton of bricks. The idea that the nudity was an excuse to shut out someone she felt vulnerable in front was not something that had consciously occurred to her. However, after a lifetime of having to protect herself, she wasn't ready to give up her shell without a fight.

"There's nothing wrong with being cautious." Emma replied self-consciously, as she scooted away from Mary Margaret, subconsciously protecting herself even now. Mary Margaret let go of her, but she didn't let the subject drop.

"True, Emma, but that wall of yours it may keep out pain, but it also may keep out love."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Who said anything about love?"

"No one." Mary Margaret replied in a business-like manner. "It's just a general observation. Walls can also keep out friends and allies and potentially perfect roommates."

Emma flopped back against the couch and stared at the ceiling. "Did you have Belle intentionally send only horrible candidates, so that he would be the only decent option?"

"Nope," Mary Margaret put up her hands in a sign of innocence. "Those were all legitimate and the only other options." She winced guiltily, "Except…"

Emma looked at her pointedly until she continued, "I may have suggested to Belle she attach the wrong photo, I was afraid you might sort Killian out before the interview if you knew he was a man... especially if he was a handsome man you'd probably be attracted to on sight..."

"I am NOT attracted to him," Emma lied. While she was a much better liar than Mary Margaret was, the entire company of women all knew she was lying. However, none objected or called her on it, it was clear she had been pushed out of her comfort zone enough for one night. Emma sat back up and shook her head at her friend, the best friend she'd ever had. "You shouldn't have done that."

"I'm sorry," her friend said solemnly. "You're right, but I just want what's best for you."

"Also you felt guilty about moving out and leaving Emma, when she's been left so many times already in her life," Regina interjected knowingly, too knowingly. "So you wanted to fix the situation."

Mary Margaret ignored her stepmother's armchair psychoanalysis and focused on Emma. "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know... He says I'm going to change my mind."

Mary Margaret reached for her hand and squeezed it. "I think you're going to change your mind too, but if you don't we'll figure it out. Killian has signed a lease, I can't evict him tonight, but you know I would never want you to feel uncomfortable in your own home, so if you want you can stay here this weekend and we'll figure out what to do about the lease. He seems like a good person, if you really can't live with him, I'm sure he'll be reasonable."

"It is rather presumptuous of him to assume you're going to change your mind," Regina added unhelpfully. "What makes him so sure?

Reflexively, Emma felt another prickle of irritation at Regina's comments about Killian. Strange how she suddenly felt protective when it was someone else voicing concerns about his overconfidence. "He said I'm an open book."

Mary Margaret clearly thought this was wonderful. She clapped her hands together and said, "Maybe that's a sign he's the perfect person to have around. Maybe he gets you."

That was exactly what scared Emma the most.

xxx

"So… it was a set up."

Startled, Killian looked up at the sound of the voice he hadn't expected to hear. He was still sitting on the bench facing the outdoor fire pit, watching the flames swirl against the night sky. Now he found that Emma was standing beside the bench holding out a travel mug. David had turned on the white fairy lights that hung around the outdoor patio. The way the lights danced behind Emma's blonde head made her look ethereal. She was even more stunning than before.

Tamping down the tug of longing he felt as he looked at her, he took the proffered mug and asked, "What was a set up?"

Before she could answer, Robin cleared his voice and rose from the seat next to Killian. "David took Roland to see the old tractor in the barn, I better make sure my son isn't talking his ear off, please excuse me."

As he left, Killian motioned to the recently vacated seat next to him, "Care to join me?"

Emma didn't sit, instead she looked at him shrewdly. "Did you know?"

"Did I know what?"

"That it was a set up. That Graham, David and Mary Margaret decided we'd be perfect roommates over a month ago?"

From the look on Killian's face, she surmised he did not. He quickly shook his head, searched for something to say, before settling on, "What?"

"Apparently, Graham visited them last month and mentioned you and that you'd be looking for some place to rent, and Mary Margaret said she knew the perfect place and…" she waved her hand in the air, "voila."

"Oh." Killian slumped against the back of the bench. "Graham did mention the Nolans and that he would introduce them, but as for living arrangements, he gave me the name of Gold Property Management and said they could help with a flat. That was it. Though..." he said thoughtfully, "I was originally looking for a place to myself and was talked into sharing space."

Emma finally relented and sat down next him. "We were had."

Killian didn't respond to that and instead gestured with the travel mug she had handed him. "What's this?"

"I was pretty annoyed with Mary Margaret when she told me what she'd done so she made me a batch of her famous hot chocolate from scratch and then spiked it."

"What's it spiked with," he asked, the humor returning to his voice.

"Rum," Emma replied taking a sip of her own drink.

"My favorite," Killian replied before taking a sip himself. "That's quite good."

"The secret is cinnamon and using chocolate chips," Emma said, her gaze straight ahead, mesmerized by the flames swaying in front of her.

"I'll remember that's how you like it." A grin spread across his face as he said it.

"Why?" Now Emma turned to face him. Her lips quirked upward when she saw that there was an errant leaf stuck in his hair. She reached up with one gloved hand and plucked it away.

His eyes tracked her movements and he felt a fissure of electricity as she came close. Someone who was going to evict him probably wouldn't engage in something so intimate. With renewed confidence he said, "We'll be cohabitating, and I'm not opposed to doing nice things for my flatmate… for instance making hot chocolate."

"You're still confident I'm going to change my mind."

"Aye."

"Ugh!" Emma moaned and shook her head, though she couldn't really hide the fact that her lips quirked upward. "I think I'm as annoyed by your confidence that I'll change my mind as I am that you saw me naked and laughed at me."

Killian sat up, set his drink on the ledge of the fire pit and turned towards her. "Emma, I may be guilty of overconfidence and of accidentally seeing you disrobed, but I assure you, I did not laugh at you."

"You made a joke about it just a few hours ago," she charged, but avoided making eye contact with him, instead her own gaze was on her mug of cocoa.

"A lamentable mistake on my part, but I wasn't laughing at you, merely hoping to find our way through an awkward situation with humor."

Emma didn't respond, so Killian picked up his drink and leaned back once again. They sat in silence for several long moments. "It's an ill-formed habit of mine. It's... I've been known to use humor to deflect. A defense mechanism from years of... well let's just say it's how I get through what life throws at me. As for why I think you'll change your mind… I have faith in you."

At that, Emma's stomach flip-flopped in her belly as the knot there loosened. "Very few people have ever had faith in me."

Killian's gaze was intense and his voice sincere when he said, "That should be rectified." Then his expression changed to one that held mischief and he gestured to his mug, "Plus you brought me your favorite warm beverage, mixed with my favorite spirit. It was a dead giveaway that you were feeling magnanimous towards me."

Emma rolled her eyes and shook her head. If he were going to stay, she would have to get used to his sense of humor. She slumped against the back of the bench; put her feet on the ledge of the fire pit and they relaxed in to companionable silence for several minutes.

Killian was content to sit next to her. It was peaceful outside and the rum-fueled hot chocolate, fairy lights and fire made for a very pleasant atmosphere. He could get used to nights in Storybrooke. Nights spent with Emma.

Emma's mind was less restful. She knew she was probably going to let him stay, he knew she was probably going to let him stay, but they still had to find their way forward. She felt unsettled and couldn't shake his comment from earlier. Usually she would let it go and run away; after her conversation with Mary Margaret she decided to chart a new course and confront it.

"Earlier you said I was an open book..."

"Aye." He glanced over at her, but didn't make any sudden movements as if he could sense the significance of her broaching the topic.

"Why do you think that?" Emma's voice was uncharacteristically small. She couldn't believe she was opening the door to any such conversation with someone she barely knew, but there was a first time for everything and there was just something about Killian.

"You said this was your first real Thanksgiving," Killian replied simply.

"How does that make me an open book?" Emma asked softly as she took another sip of her hot chocolate.

"I'm to understand that it's a ubiquitous holiday here in the US, celebrated by most."

"It is. So?"

"If you haven't celebrated it properly that probably means you've had an unconventional upbringing and probably a rough one at that... which I can relate to, moreover you have the look."

Emma was almost afraid to ask, but she did. "What look?"

Killian smiled humorlessly and replied in all seriousness. "The look of someone who has had to fend for themselves, someone who has been alone most of her life and who has been hurt by those she's let in… present company excluded." He motioned towards the house that contained Mary Margaret and David and the makeshift family they represented. "It takes a lot for you to trust someone, and here comes this British bloke, blundering into your life and seeing you sans armor on the first night of cohabitation. I admit, it's not great for building trust and I don't blame you for being wary, but while you're painfully guarded, you're also a bit of a gambler."

His words struck Emma dumb. How did he know her so well after so little acquaintance?

Killian hadn't stopped speaking. "I'm also a gambler, Swan, so I'm betting that you're going to realize that I will be an exemplary flatmate for you, you're going to accept my apology, forget the unfortunate incident and we'll put this behind us in favor of a desirable living situation beneficial to both of us."

Emma let all that sink in. She already knew he was right and that she was going to do all of that, but she still wasn't ready to admit it. Recovered, she leveled her best interrogative gaze at him. "You haven't apologized."

He cocked his head at her. "Indeed? Let me rectify that. Emma Swan, please accept my most humble apology that I saw you sans clothing on our first night of living together. If I could go back in time and prevent it, I would. In fact, you should know that I tried to phone you yesterday afternoon before I arrived. I left a message, obviously, it didn't reach you… also last night I knocked before I let myself into the loft, but you obviously couldn't hear over the music. It was an unfortunate series of events because the very last thing I wanted to do was startle you or invade your privacy." Her stare softened from interrogation to understanding and he felt the tide turn in his favor. He continued earnestly, "I assure you I feel terrible that it happened. Last night, I lay awake quite some time trying to figure out how to ease your embarrassment. I considered apology flowers or stripping down so we'd be even-"

At that Emma's eyebrows hit the midpoint of her forehead.

"I quickly discarded that idea." Killian added hastily.

"Why?" He was relieved to hear the threads of humor in her voice.

"I determined it would serve to make things even more uncomfortable. Though if you disagree…" he trailed off studying her with amusement.

"No." Emma finally agreed, once she had shaken off the image of him… naked. An image that was more appealing than she'd like to admit. "You're right, that would be even more awkward."

"Emma, I'm mortified that you've been made uncomfortable by the... unfortunate... nudity... incident, and I want to do anything within my power to make you comfortable again. Awkward or not. So, name it, and I'll do it."

Her expression was a cross between a smile and a frown. "Well the first thing you can do it not call it the unfortunate nudity incident." The last thing she wanted is for it to have an official name. Though, she knew she was thawing towards him. What was it about this man that lowered her defenses?

He reached up and scratched behind his ear. "Would you prefer if we called it the unfortunate _pumpkin pie_ nudity incident?"

She couldn't help it, at that she threw her head back and laughed and he knew he had her.

xxx

She hadn't officially said he could stay, but that was mostly because he'd shrewdly changed the subject as soon he'd made her laugh out loud, by asking when she would start school.

They were amicably sitting by the fire, which was throwing enough heat to ward off the evening chill, Emma talking about the classes she would start come January, when Mary Margaret approached. She was carrying a stoneware pitcher and wearing a sheepish expression.

"I have a fresh batch of rum-infused hot chocolate," she motioned to the pitcher, "Can I offer a refill as an olive branch?"

Emma sat forward and picked up her empty mug before unscrewing the lid and holding it out for Mary Margaret to pour. Killian followed suit. When Mary Margaret was done she said, "Does this mean I'm forgiven."

Emma took a deep breath. "Of course, you're forgiven, but…"

Mary Margaret looked at her encouragingly. "But?"

"Please don't do that again. Let's have conversations like adults. If you want to recommend something to me or give me advice, go ahead and give it and I'll decide for myself whether to take it or not. No more schemes."

Mary Margaret nodded contritely. "Agreed." She looked at the other occupant on the bench. "Killian, I apologize for not being more upfront about the roommate situation and for having Belle replace your picture on the application… oh and for suggesting she shorten your first name to just an initial."

Killian cocked an eyebrow in surprise. "Ah... I suppose that explains that misunderstanding." He smiled graciously at his hostess. "There is no need to apologize to me, milady. I'm honored you thought me suitable to live with someone for whom you obviously care a great deal. Thank you and thank you again for inviting me tonight; it's a kindness I'll not soon forget."

Emma sat back and crossed her arms. "Now you're just trying to prove you're charming and make me look ungrateful in the process."

"On the contrary," Killian shook his head, "My relationship with Mary Margaret is different than yours, I'm a veritable stranger, the lady owes me naught."

Mary Margaret decided to step in before Emma could either agree or retort. "I should be thanking you for bringing Robin and Roland, my stepmother has never been this pleasant at a family holiday before."

"Pleasant?" Emma said incredulously, remembering her comments about Killian. "She was purposely trolling me earlier."

"Yes, Regina joking and ribbing is Regina at her best." Mary Margaret replied happily. Emma once again had no idea why Mary Margaret tried so hard for a relationship with the woman but kept that thought to herself. "She's in a great mood, for her, I think she's quite taken with Robin, with both of them actually. Oh, I also meant to tell you, David, Robin and Roland all came inside and we're going to do a second round of pie if you're interested. In about 15 minutes."

Mary Margaret didn't wait for an answer; instead, she swept off towards the backdoor of the house.

Emma watched her go and then turned back to Killian. "I suppose we should go in as well, I think the temperature is dropping, though it is cozy here by the fire."

"As you wish." Killian replied and was about to stand up, when he paused, perched on the bench, and turned towards her.

"I do have one question; you just said I was trying to prove that I was charming. Why would I be proving I was charming; who said anything about me being charming?"

Emma blushed; even though she wasn't really exposing herself. "The other ladies, Ruth in particular think you're very charming."

"Hmm." Killian hummed thoughtfully, before catching her eye. "Charming enough to live with?"

Maybe too charming to live with, Emma thought to herself. However, it was time to let him off the proverbial hook. Aloud she said, "Just charming enough. You can stay."

"Really?" Killian asked as visible relief seemed to course through him.

"Yes," Emma agreed and then sheepish added, "I suppose I should apologize for... maybe... sort of... possibly... over reacting."

"Apology accepted, Swan." Killian's eyes danced and it looked like he was about to make a quip or a joke of some sort so Emma quickly turned the subject back to him and his foibles.

"You know..." Emma began as she studied him astutely, "I thought you were confident I would change my mind. When I said you could stay... you sounded awfully relieved for someone so confident."

Killian chuckled before admitting, "I was only 80% confident you would change your mind, the other 20% was worried I'd be relegated to Robin's couch for the next week."

"That is a dim prospect, especially if he's going to start hanging out with Regina."

"Aye," Killian said, wisely deciding to take his new flatmate's side against the mayor. "Since that fate is no longer mine, shall we return to the house for some more pecan pie?" He put the emphasis on 'pecan.'

She studied him before taking a faux serious tone. "Actually, I think I'll have Pumpkin this time."

"Indeed?"

Emma shrugged and then smiled. "One bite wasn't enough."

A cheeky grin lit his face. Emboldened by her choice of desserts he slid his hand out of the glove he was wearing and held it out to her. "Friends?"

She looked at it for a long moment before taking a deep breath and shrugging out of her own glove. She put her bare hand into his. "Friends. As long as you never mention the Unfortunate Pumpkin Pie Nudity Incident ever again."

"I'm not sure I can promise that," he chuckled mischievously. "It's a pretty good yarn. There may be a time when you wish to recite it at cocktail parties or at the local watering hole and I don't want to be left out of the merriment."

She glared at him until he added, "Of course regaling anyone with the tale will be entirely up to you, I'll merely be along for the ride... as your first lieutenant."

"I can live with that," she agreed and then, perhaps for the first time, she gave him a genuine, dazzling smile.

His breath caught, and once again, he was struck by how magnificent she was. Living with this enchanting woman might be a very bad idea, especially if he was to do so platonically. The warmth in his chest that exploded when she smiled at him didn't necessary feel very platonic.

Killian swallowed the lump in his throat before asking breathlessly, "Just who are you, Swan?"

Emma smirked; maybe she wasn't entirely an open book. That was good; it was good to maintain a little mystery. Matter-of-factly she said, "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Perhaps I would."

At that, Emma dropped his hand, turned and headed back to the house. However, she paused and looked back to make sure Killian was following her. They entered the house as flatmates, friends and with an unspoken feeling that their future together was bright.

The End (probably)


End file.
